XXVII

XXVIIUlenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a fleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from Blankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the followers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a silver crescent with this inscription: “Serve rather the Turk than the Pope.”Ulenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every side there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and Ulenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and thence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For by now it is the month of February.Now all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight imaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice; and women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl and gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went hither and thither, laughing and following one another in line, or two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice, and running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags, where one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and eggs and hot vegetables withheete-koeken—pancakes, that is, with vegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around themthe sailing sledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.Lamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered about on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept falling down time and again.Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to resort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high, and where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.One Sunday about nine o’clock he went to the inn and asked them to give him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to serve him.“Dear me,” he cried, “you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those old wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth again, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And your lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so sweet and roguish?”“Nay, nay,” she said. “But what can I get you?”“Yourself,” he said.The woman answered:“That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will not some other kind of meat do for you?”When Ulenspiegel made no answer:“What have you done,” she said, “with that handsome, well-set-up, but rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?”“Do you mean Lamme?” queried Ulenspiegel.“Yes. What have you done with him?” she repeated.“He is busy eating,” answered Ulenspiegel, “eating anything he can set his teeth upon—hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels and salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But why are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would you like a collar of gold?”But she crossed herself, saying:“I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.”“Do you love no one?” said Ulenspiegel.“I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and Our Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed and oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor women. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who succumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me, is he well and happy?”Ulenspiegel answered:“He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I will get him to come and see you.”“Do not do that,” she said; “he would weep and so should I.”“Have you ever seen his wife?” asked Ulenspiegel.“She sinned with him once,” the woman answered, “and was condemned therefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in the cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian heart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him if he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.”“Lamme is my brother and my friend,” answered Ulenspiegel.“Ah!” she said. “But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy Mother Church?”“She eats up her children,” answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.But one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept the ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away, Ulenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the prettybaesinesaid to him (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):“Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!”“Why do you pity us so?” he asked her.“Alas! alas!” she cried. “Why will you not believe in the Mass? And you did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I might be able to save you in this life also.”Seeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel said to her:“Is it the snow that you hear falling?”“No,” she said.“What then?”“It is death that comes like a thief in the night.”“Death,” exclaimed Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand you. Come back and tell me.”“They are there,” she said.“Who are?”“Who?” she said. “Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to come in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And if they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat the oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,” she cried all in tears, “why did I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!”“You must not cry,” said Ulenspiegel, “and you must stay where you are!”“Do not betray me,” she said.Ulenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went round to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the sailors and soldiers these words: “The Spaniards are coming.”At that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the haste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they waited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:“Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black dress embroidered with scarlet?”“It’s all one to me,” answered Lamme. “I am cold and I want to go to sleep.”And he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man who was deaf.But presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her from the vessel:“Would you like to come with us?”“Even to the death,” she answered, “but I cannot....”Then she came nearer to the ship.“Take this ointment,” she said. “It is for you and that fat friend of yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.”And she withdrew herself, crying:“Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.”And she uncovered her face.“My wife! My wife!” cried Lamme.And he would have jumped down to her.“Your faithful wife!” she said, running the while as fast as ever she could.Lamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was restrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost addressed him, saying:“You will be hanged if you leave the ship.”Yet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman held him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get his feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:“My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!”“You will see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves you, but she loves God more.”“Mad devil-woman that she is!” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”“Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?” demanded Ulenspiegel.In the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the scene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which promptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the ice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the west wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its covering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could be seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other, not without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began to dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of freedom and sailed out towards the open sea.“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”There they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche, Admiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire Très-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of mercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to its marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of an ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La Brièle, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.XXVIIIIt was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!And again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!And all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and they also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and sang out also:The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!And the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder of deliverance.XXIXIt was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in the womb of the cow. Snow had fallenover all the land, and then frozen hard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that came to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow; and whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against the grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves in motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were with cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and the tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who themselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide the fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms the earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and cottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything there brooded a great stillness.And Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline wagged her head, crying continually:“Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your kisses cold as snow?” And she stood watching at the window.Suddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:“Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!”And he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to gather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in the silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet, and straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors thinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty himself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline also went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a troop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a magnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And she knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.Now behind him there rode a company of youthful Lordsclad in long cloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with buttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes waving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good comrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them was a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings, and like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also was adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture’s beak, his mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale, and very proud was his bearing.While the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage, Katheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale horseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:“Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful like this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against the snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall I hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?”The high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale gentleman said:“What does this beggar-woman want with me?”But Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:“You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried for you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow, O body of ice! See, this is your child!”And she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror, for now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at Katheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all the time:“Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with you whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!”“Get out of the way!” he said. And he urged on hissteed so quickly that Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell on to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound upon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as to whether he knew aught of the woman.“I know her not,” was the answer. “She is out of her wits, doubtless.”But by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. “If this woman is mad,” she said, “at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am ready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating”—and here Nele took and ate of the snow with her fingers—“if this horseman has not had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend him money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that killed the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from the wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to the poor man that is dead.”“Hans, my pet,” sobbed Katheline, “give me the kiss of peace. Time was when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the dike.... You loved me well in those days.”“Who is that man she speaks of?” demanded the bailiff.“I know not,” said the pale horseman. “The talk of this beggar-woman is no concern of ours. Let us move on.”But by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town, and they all began to take Katheline’s part, crying: “Justice! Justice, my Lord Bailiff! Justice!”And the bailiff said to Nele: “Who is the one that was killed? Speak the truth in God’s name.”Then Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:“This is the man who came every Saturday to thekeetto visit my mother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own friends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte; and this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent folly believes, but ratherthat he might get hold of her seven hundred caroluses and keep them all for himself.”“You lie,” said the pale horseman.“Oh no!” said Nele. “For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin; you that reduced her orphan son to misery; you—nobleman that you are—who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you brought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take her money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that friend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but, as you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend Hilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?”“Nele is naughty,” said Katheline. “You must not pay any attention to her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her by force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten him. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are beautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.”Nele accuses HansNele accuses HansNow the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but Katheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged, therefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people that were there assembled began to cry out:“Justice, my Lord! Justice!”At this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene, attracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed himself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:“My Lords and Gentlemen,—Notwithstanding all those privileges which protect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find myself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations which have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to be confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial accordingto the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then, your sword, Sir Joos!”At this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people cried out as with one voice:“Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!”And he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had dismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the prison of the commune.Nevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed in a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was made not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good bed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.XXXOn the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow began to melt and the meadows were all flooded.And the bell that is calledBorgstormsummoned the judges to the tribunal of theVierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because the grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And round about the tribunal stood the people of the town.Joos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he still wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there, but her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress, the dress of a prisoner.On being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having killed his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he confessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law of Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the space of ten years.Then the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.“No,” replied Damman.“Prove it,” said the bailiff.“That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,” said Joos Damman, “but not now.”Then the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no attention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:“You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put out the fire, my pet!”Then Nele spoke on Katheline’s behalf.“She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She is not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.”Then the bailiff said his say:“A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a devilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain object. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to be sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as the evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches’ Sabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money from her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also I find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man, taking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask, therefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a case where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?”The aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was not their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.Then the bailiff spake again:“Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad as she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it not probable that at the behest of herleman she might have committed the most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign themselves to the devil’s will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused to acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline has not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the Empire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.”And the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners were to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was the day but one following.And Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined with her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were taken back into the gaol.There, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered to provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards were commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to sleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her to sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman beat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung his head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to eat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day which followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food and drink—meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and saltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And this was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out with thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.There they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were, each to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords that hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass of water saturated with salt and saltpetre.Joos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was,but the sergeants soon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:“Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime, when he killed Hilbert—and that was done for love’s sake. Oh, but I am thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him something to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me up. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!”Joos said to her:“Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her into the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!”Meanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word that was being said. And the bailiff asked him:“Have you nothing to confess?”“I have nothing more to say,” replied Damman. “You know all that there is to know.”“Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,” said the bailiff, “let him remain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his crimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.”“So be it,” said Joos Damman. “And I will amuse myself by watching the sufferings of this old witch here.”And Katheline answered him, saying:“Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head is burning!”The clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff asked her:“Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?”But Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:“It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will give me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out the fire!” Then she began to cry out most horribly: “Water! Water! My head is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!”And she lost consciousness.Thereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of torture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to and fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords that had been bound too tight.“Give her to drink,” said the bailiff.And they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily, holding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing to let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have carried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet from her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.But Joos Damman cried out in his fury:“I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do you let her fall asleep?”“She is a woman,” answered the bailiff. “And she is weak and out of her mind.”“Her madness is only pretence,” said Joos Damman. “She is a witch. I want to drink, and I want to sleep.”And he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.“Give me a knife,” he cried, “that I may cut these varlets in pieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face before! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took the seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never committed any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave me alone and give me something to drink.”But the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he left Katheline.“I do not know Katheline at all,” he said, “therefore I never left her. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to answer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.”“Take him away,” said the bailiff, “put him back into his prison. But see that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep until he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.”And now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried out continually in his prison: “Water! Water!” And so loudly did he cry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt no pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards struck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:“I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the King our master. Water!”But he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.XXXIIt was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.Then the bailiff spoke as follows:“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Kathelinewith such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”And the clerk of the court read out as follows:“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”And the people cried out:“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,“Hanske.”“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.The bailiff said:“Let the two handwritings be compared.”When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drownedshe would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:Katheline led to the Trial by WaterKatheline led to the Trial by Water“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:“Let them throw me in with her!”But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, andplaced in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.XXXIIIn those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them—save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.And Ulenspiegel said:“Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?”An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:“The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up—let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!”“But,” answered Ulenspiegel, “we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.”Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. “And he is master here,” they added. “It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!”“A soldier’s word is a word of gold,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, parole d’or.Why should we ever break our word?”“No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,” they told him. “Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?”“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.“They will be hanged,” said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.“Not as long as I am alive,” said Ulenspiegel.“My son,” said Lamme, “you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful.”“I shall tell him the truth,” answered Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“If you think that you can save them,” said Marin, “I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.”“I will,” said Ulenspiegel.The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: “This man is a traitor.” Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:“O Rochus,” he said, “are they taking us to the gallows-field?” Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: “O city of Gorcum,” he cried, stretching out his hands, “O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!”“Cursed and accursed indeed!” answered Ulenspiegel. “As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!”The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.“Welcome,” said he, “Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!”One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:“Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection.”“He has well spoken,” said Ulenspiegel. “For having broken with the world—that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart—a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold—parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“And who are you?” asked Messire de Lumey.“My Lord,” replied Ulenspiegel, “a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one—and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep thepromise which was made to these men by the captain:parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.“My Lord,” said they, “this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.”Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:“Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them.”“I am not afraid,” replied Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered “all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.”The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.“Where are the originals?” inquired de Lumey.“My master has them,” said the messenger.“And the churl sends me the copy!” said de Lumey. “Where is your passport?”“Here, my Lord,” said the messenger.Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:“My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....” etc.De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.“Sang de Dieu!” he cried. “What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself ‘My Lord’ forsooth, and ‘Master,’ and sends to me his ‘orders’! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don’t get out at once.”And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.“Bring me to drink,” he cried. “Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?”And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.Ulenspiegel was brought before him.“Well?” he said. “What news of your friends the monks?”“They have been hanged,” said Ulenspiegel. “And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.“So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!”“Shame on you,” cried Ulenspiegel. “Shame on us all!Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Silence, Iron-pate!” said Messire de Lumey.“Shame on you again!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!”At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.“Strike,” said Ulenspiegel. “I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:“Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.”Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.“Let him ask my pardon then,” he said.But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.“Never,” he said.“At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,” cried de Lumey, growing angry again.Ulenspiegel answered:“I will lick no man’s boots.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Tell them to put up the gallows,” said de Lumey, “and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.”“Yes,” said Ulenspiegel, “and I will cry out there in front of all the people,Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”The gallows was set up in the market square, and the newsspread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.Très-Long said:“My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.”And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: “Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!”“The Iron-pate has defied me,” said de Lumey. “Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right.”“Will you?” said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.“Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or,” Ulenspiegel answered.“Draw the cord,” said de Lumey.The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.“This man is mine,” she said. “I take him for my husband.”And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:“Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!”“What does this mean?” demanded Messire de Lumey.Très-Long answered:“You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows.”“God is on his side,” said de Lumey. “Unloose his fetters.”Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn’t know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.“I am Nele,” she answered him, “the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him.”“You have done well,” said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.“Young Fleming,” he said, “when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?”“Yes, sir,” answered Ulenspiegel.“But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?”Nele answered:“If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.”“Very well,” said Très-Long.And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: “We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!”And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered,and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:“Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it’s you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!”“They have killed her,” she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:“Alas! my wife, where are you?”And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.And Nele’s head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:“Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!”She kissed him on the mouth, saying:“Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.”“I will make for you a soldier’s habit,” said Ulenspiegel.“Now? At once?”“At once,” he told her. “But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter.”

XXVIIUlenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a fleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from Blankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the followers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a silver crescent with this inscription: “Serve rather the Turk than the Pope.”Ulenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every side there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and Ulenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and thence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For by now it is the month of February.Now all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight imaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice; and women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl and gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went hither and thither, laughing and following one another in line, or two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice, and running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags, where one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and eggs and hot vegetables withheete-koeken—pancakes, that is, with vegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around themthe sailing sledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.Lamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered about on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept falling down time and again.Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to resort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high, and where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.One Sunday about nine o’clock he went to the inn and asked them to give him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to serve him.“Dear me,” he cried, “you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those old wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth again, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And your lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so sweet and roguish?”“Nay, nay,” she said. “But what can I get you?”“Yourself,” he said.The woman answered:“That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will not some other kind of meat do for you?”When Ulenspiegel made no answer:“What have you done,” she said, “with that handsome, well-set-up, but rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?”“Do you mean Lamme?” queried Ulenspiegel.“Yes. What have you done with him?” she repeated.“He is busy eating,” answered Ulenspiegel, “eating anything he can set his teeth upon—hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels and salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But why are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would you like a collar of gold?”But she crossed herself, saying:“I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.”“Do you love no one?” said Ulenspiegel.“I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and Our Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed and oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor women. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who succumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me, is he well and happy?”Ulenspiegel answered:“He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I will get him to come and see you.”“Do not do that,” she said; “he would weep and so should I.”“Have you ever seen his wife?” asked Ulenspiegel.“She sinned with him once,” the woman answered, “and was condemned therefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in the cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian heart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him if he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.”“Lamme is my brother and my friend,” answered Ulenspiegel.“Ah!” she said. “But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy Mother Church?”“She eats up her children,” answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.But one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept the ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away, Ulenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the prettybaesinesaid to him (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):“Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!”“Why do you pity us so?” he asked her.“Alas! alas!” she cried. “Why will you not believe in the Mass? And you did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I might be able to save you in this life also.”Seeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel said to her:“Is it the snow that you hear falling?”“No,” she said.“What then?”“It is death that comes like a thief in the night.”“Death,” exclaimed Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand you. Come back and tell me.”“They are there,” she said.“Who are?”“Who?” she said. “Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to come in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And if they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat the oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,” she cried all in tears, “why did I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!”“You must not cry,” said Ulenspiegel, “and you must stay where you are!”“Do not betray me,” she said.Ulenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went round to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the sailors and soldiers these words: “The Spaniards are coming.”At that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the haste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they waited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:“Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black dress embroidered with scarlet?”“It’s all one to me,” answered Lamme. “I am cold and I want to go to sleep.”And he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man who was deaf.But presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her from the vessel:“Would you like to come with us?”“Even to the death,” she answered, “but I cannot....”Then she came nearer to the ship.“Take this ointment,” she said. “It is for you and that fat friend of yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.”And she withdrew herself, crying:“Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.”And she uncovered her face.“My wife! My wife!” cried Lamme.And he would have jumped down to her.“Your faithful wife!” she said, running the while as fast as ever she could.Lamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was restrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost addressed him, saying:“You will be hanged if you leave the ship.”Yet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman held him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get his feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:“My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!”“You will see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves you, but she loves God more.”“Mad devil-woman that she is!” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”“Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?” demanded Ulenspiegel.In the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the scene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which promptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the ice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the west wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its covering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could be seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other, not without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began to dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of freedom and sailed out towards the open sea.“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”There they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche, Admiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire Très-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of mercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to its marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of an ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La Brièle, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.XXVIIIIt was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!And again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!And all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and they also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and sang out also:The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!And the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder of deliverance.XXIXIt was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in the womb of the cow. Snow had fallenover all the land, and then frozen hard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that came to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow; and whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against the grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves in motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were with cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and the tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who themselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide the fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms the earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and cottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything there brooded a great stillness.And Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline wagged her head, crying continually:“Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your kisses cold as snow?” And she stood watching at the window.Suddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:“Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!”And he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to gather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in the silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet, and straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors thinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty himself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline also went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a troop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a magnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And she knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.Now behind him there rode a company of youthful Lordsclad in long cloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with buttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes waving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good comrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them was a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings, and like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also was adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture’s beak, his mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale, and very proud was his bearing.While the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage, Katheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale horseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:“Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful like this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against the snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall I hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?”The high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale gentleman said:“What does this beggar-woman want with me?”But Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:“You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried for you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow, O body of ice! See, this is your child!”And she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror, for now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at Katheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all the time:“Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with you whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!”“Get out of the way!” he said. And he urged on hissteed so quickly that Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell on to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound upon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as to whether he knew aught of the woman.“I know her not,” was the answer. “She is out of her wits, doubtless.”But by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. “If this woman is mad,” she said, “at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am ready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating”—and here Nele took and ate of the snow with her fingers—“if this horseman has not had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend him money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that killed the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from the wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to the poor man that is dead.”“Hans, my pet,” sobbed Katheline, “give me the kiss of peace. Time was when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the dike.... You loved me well in those days.”“Who is that man she speaks of?” demanded the bailiff.“I know not,” said the pale horseman. “The talk of this beggar-woman is no concern of ours. Let us move on.”But by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town, and they all began to take Katheline’s part, crying: “Justice! Justice, my Lord Bailiff! Justice!”And the bailiff said to Nele: “Who is the one that was killed? Speak the truth in God’s name.”Then Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:“This is the man who came every Saturday to thekeetto visit my mother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own friends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte; and this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent folly believes, but ratherthat he might get hold of her seven hundred caroluses and keep them all for himself.”“You lie,” said the pale horseman.“Oh no!” said Nele. “For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin; you that reduced her orphan son to misery; you—nobleman that you are—who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you brought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take her money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that friend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but, as you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend Hilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?”“Nele is naughty,” said Katheline. “You must not pay any attention to her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her by force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten him. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are beautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.”Nele accuses HansNele accuses HansNow the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but Katheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged, therefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people that were there assembled began to cry out:“Justice, my Lord! Justice!”At this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene, attracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed himself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:“My Lords and Gentlemen,—Notwithstanding all those privileges which protect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find myself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations which have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to be confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial accordingto the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then, your sword, Sir Joos!”At this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people cried out as with one voice:“Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!”And he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had dismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the prison of the commune.Nevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed in a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was made not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good bed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.XXXOn the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow began to melt and the meadows were all flooded.And the bell that is calledBorgstormsummoned the judges to the tribunal of theVierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because the grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And round about the tribunal stood the people of the town.Joos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he still wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there, but her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress, the dress of a prisoner.On being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having killed his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he confessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law of Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the space of ten years.Then the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.“No,” replied Damman.“Prove it,” said the bailiff.“That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,” said Joos Damman, “but not now.”Then the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no attention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:“You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put out the fire, my pet!”Then Nele spoke on Katheline’s behalf.“She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She is not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.”Then the bailiff said his say:“A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a devilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain object. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to be sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as the evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches’ Sabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money from her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also I find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man, taking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask, therefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a case where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?”The aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was not their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.Then the bailiff spake again:“Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad as she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it not probable that at the behest of herleman she might have committed the most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign themselves to the devil’s will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused to acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline has not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the Empire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.”And the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners were to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was the day but one following.And Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined with her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were taken back into the gaol.There, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered to provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards were commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to sleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her to sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman beat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung his head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to eat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day which followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food and drink—meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and saltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And this was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out with thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.There they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were, each to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords that hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass of water saturated with salt and saltpetre.Joos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was,but the sergeants soon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:“Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime, when he killed Hilbert—and that was done for love’s sake. Oh, but I am thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him something to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me up. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!”Joos said to her:“Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her into the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!”Meanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word that was being said. And the bailiff asked him:“Have you nothing to confess?”“I have nothing more to say,” replied Damman. “You know all that there is to know.”“Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,” said the bailiff, “let him remain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his crimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.”“So be it,” said Joos Damman. “And I will amuse myself by watching the sufferings of this old witch here.”And Katheline answered him, saying:“Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head is burning!”The clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff asked her:“Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?”But Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:“It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will give me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out the fire!” Then she began to cry out most horribly: “Water! Water! My head is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!”And she lost consciousness.Thereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of torture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to and fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords that had been bound too tight.“Give her to drink,” said the bailiff.And they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily, holding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing to let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have carried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet from her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.But Joos Damman cried out in his fury:“I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do you let her fall asleep?”“She is a woman,” answered the bailiff. “And she is weak and out of her mind.”“Her madness is only pretence,” said Joos Damman. “She is a witch. I want to drink, and I want to sleep.”And he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.“Give me a knife,” he cried, “that I may cut these varlets in pieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face before! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took the seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never committed any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave me alone and give me something to drink.”But the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he left Katheline.“I do not know Katheline at all,” he said, “therefore I never left her. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to answer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.”“Take him away,” said the bailiff, “put him back into his prison. But see that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep until he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.”And now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried out continually in his prison: “Water! Water!” And so loudly did he cry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt no pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards struck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:“I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the King our master. Water!”But he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.XXXIIt was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.Then the bailiff spoke as follows:“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Kathelinewith such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”And the clerk of the court read out as follows:“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”And the people cried out:“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,“Hanske.”“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.The bailiff said:“Let the two handwritings be compared.”When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drownedshe would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:Katheline led to the Trial by WaterKatheline led to the Trial by Water“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:“Let them throw me in with her!”But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, andplaced in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.XXXIIIn those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them—save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.And Ulenspiegel said:“Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?”An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:“The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up—let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!”“But,” answered Ulenspiegel, “we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.”Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. “And he is master here,” they added. “It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!”“A soldier’s word is a word of gold,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, parole d’or.Why should we ever break our word?”“No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,” they told him. “Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?”“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.“They will be hanged,” said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.“Not as long as I am alive,” said Ulenspiegel.“My son,” said Lamme, “you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful.”“I shall tell him the truth,” answered Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“If you think that you can save them,” said Marin, “I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.”“I will,” said Ulenspiegel.The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: “This man is a traitor.” Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:“O Rochus,” he said, “are they taking us to the gallows-field?” Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: “O city of Gorcum,” he cried, stretching out his hands, “O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!”“Cursed and accursed indeed!” answered Ulenspiegel. “As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!”The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.“Welcome,” said he, “Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!”One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:“Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection.”“He has well spoken,” said Ulenspiegel. “For having broken with the world—that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart—a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold—parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“And who are you?” asked Messire de Lumey.“My Lord,” replied Ulenspiegel, “a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one—and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep thepromise which was made to these men by the captain:parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.“My Lord,” said they, “this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.”Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:“Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them.”“I am not afraid,” replied Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered “all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.”The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.“Where are the originals?” inquired de Lumey.“My master has them,” said the messenger.“And the churl sends me the copy!” said de Lumey. “Where is your passport?”“Here, my Lord,” said the messenger.Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:“My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....” etc.De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.“Sang de Dieu!” he cried. “What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself ‘My Lord’ forsooth, and ‘Master,’ and sends to me his ‘orders’! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don’t get out at once.”And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.“Bring me to drink,” he cried. “Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?”And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.Ulenspiegel was brought before him.“Well?” he said. “What news of your friends the monks?”“They have been hanged,” said Ulenspiegel. “And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.“So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!”“Shame on you,” cried Ulenspiegel. “Shame on us all!Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Silence, Iron-pate!” said Messire de Lumey.“Shame on you again!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!”At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.“Strike,” said Ulenspiegel. “I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:“Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.”Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.“Let him ask my pardon then,” he said.But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.“Never,” he said.“At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,” cried de Lumey, growing angry again.Ulenspiegel answered:“I will lick no man’s boots.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Tell them to put up the gallows,” said de Lumey, “and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.”“Yes,” said Ulenspiegel, “and I will cry out there in front of all the people,Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”The gallows was set up in the market square, and the newsspread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.Très-Long said:“My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.”And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: “Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!”“The Iron-pate has defied me,” said de Lumey. “Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right.”“Will you?” said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.“Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or,” Ulenspiegel answered.“Draw the cord,” said de Lumey.The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.“This man is mine,” she said. “I take him for my husband.”And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:“Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!”“What does this mean?” demanded Messire de Lumey.Très-Long answered:“You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows.”“God is on his side,” said de Lumey. “Unloose his fetters.”Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn’t know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.“I am Nele,” she answered him, “the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him.”“You have done well,” said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.“Young Fleming,” he said, “when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?”“Yes, sir,” answered Ulenspiegel.“But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?”Nele answered:“If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.”“Very well,” said Très-Long.And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: “We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!”And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered,and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:“Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it’s you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!”“They have killed her,” she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:“Alas! my wife, where are you?”And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.And Nele’s head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:“Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!”She kissed him on the mouth, saying:“Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.”“I will make for you a soldier’s habit,” said Ulenspiegel.“Now? At once?”“At once,” he told her. “But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter.”

XXVIIUlenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a fleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from Blankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the followers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a silver crescent with this inscription: “Serve rather the Turk than the Pope.”Ulenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every side there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and Ulenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and thence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For by now it is the month of February.Now all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight imaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice; and women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl and gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went hither and thither, laughing and following one another in line, or two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice, and running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags, where one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and eggs and hot vegetables withheete-koeken—pancakes, that is, with vegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around themthe sailing sledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.Lamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered about on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept falling down time and again.Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to resort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high, and where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.One Sunday about nine o’clock he went to the inn and asked them to give him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to serve him.“Dear me,” he cried, “you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those old wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth again, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And your lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so sweet and roguish?”“Nay, nay,” she said. “But what can I get you?”“Yourself,” he said.The woman answered:“That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will not some other kind of meat do for you?”When Ulenspiegel made no answer:“What have you done,” she said, “with that handsome, well-set-up, but rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?”“Do you mean Lamme?” queried Ulenspiegel.“Yes. What have you done with him?” she repeated.“He is busy eating,” answered Ulenspiegel, “eating anything he can set his teeth upon—hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels and salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But why are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would you like a collar of gold?”But she crossed herself, saying:“I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.”“Do you love no one?” said Ulenspiegel.“I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and Our Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed and oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor women. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who succumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me, is he well and happy?”Ulenspiegel answered:“He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I will get him to come and see you.”“Do not do that,” she said; “he would weep and so should I.”“Have you ever seen his wife?” asked Ulenspiegel.“She sinned with him once,” the woman answered, “and was condemned therefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in the cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian heart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him if he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.”“Lamme is my brother and my friend,” answered Ulenspiegel.“Ah!” she said. “But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy Mother Church?”“She eats up her children,” answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.But one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept the ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away, Ulenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the prettybaesinesaid to him (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):“Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!”“Why do you pity us so?” he asked her.“Alas! alas!” she cried. “Why will you not believe in the Mass? And you did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I might be able to save you in this life also.”Seeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel said to her:“Is it the snow that you hear falling?”“No,” she said.“What then?”“It is death that comes like a thief in the night.”“Death,” exclaimed Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand you. Come back and tell me.”“They are there,” she said.“Who are?”“Who?” she said. “Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to come in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And if they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat the oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,” she cried all in tears, “why did I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!”“You must not cry,” said Ulenspiegel, “and you must stay where you are!”“Do not betray me,” she said.Ulenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went round to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the sailors and soldiers these words: “The Spaniards are coming.”At that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the haste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they waited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:“Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black dress embroidered with scarlet?”“It’s all one to me,” answered Lamme. “I am cold and I want to go to sleep.”And he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man who was deaf.But presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her from the vessel:“Would you like to come with us?”“Even to the death,” she answered, “but I cannot....”Then she came nearer to the ship.“Take this ointment,” she said. “It is for you and that fat friend of yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.”And she withdrew herself, crying:“Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.”And she uncovered her face.“My wife! My wife!” cried Lamme.And he would have jumped down to her.“Your faithful wife!” she said, running the while as fast as ever she could.Lamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was restrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost addressed him, saying:“You will be hanged if you leave the ship.”Yet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman held him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get his feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:“My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!”“You will see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves you, but she loves God more.”“Mad devil-woman that she is!” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”“Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?” demanded Ulenspiegel.In the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the scene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which promptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the ice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the west wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its covering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could be seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other, not without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began to dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of freedom and sailed out towards the open sea.“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”There they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche, Admiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire Très-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of mercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to its marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of an ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La Brièle, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.XXVIIIIt was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!And again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!And all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and they also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and sang out also:The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!And the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder of deliverance.XXIXIt was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in the womb of the cow. Snow had fallenover all the land, and then frozen hard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that came to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow; and whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against the grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves in motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were with cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and the tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who themselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide the fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms the earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and cottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything there brooded a great stillness.And Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline wagged her head, crying continually:“Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your kisses cold as snow?” And she stood watching at the window.Suddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:“Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!”And he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to gather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in the silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet, and straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors thinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty himself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline also went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a troop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a magnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And she knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.Now behind him there rode a company of youthful Lordsclad in long cloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with buttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes waving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good comrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them was a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings, and like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also was adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture’s beak, his mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale, and very proud was his bearing.While the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage, Katheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale horseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:“Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful like this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against the snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall I hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?”The high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale gentleman said:“What does this beggar-woman want with me?”But Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:“You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried for you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow, O body of ice! See, this is your child!”And she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror, for now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at Katheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all the time:“Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with you whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!”“Get out of the way!” he said. And he urged on hissteed so quickly that Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell on to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound upon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as to whether he knew aught of the woman.“I know her not,” was the answer. “She is out of her wits, doubtless.”But by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. “If this woman is mad,” she said, “at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am ready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating”—and here Nele took and ate of the snow with her fingers—“if this horseman has not had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend him money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that killed the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from the wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to the poor man that is dead.”“Hans, my pet,” sobbed Katheline, “give me the kiss of peace. Time was when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the dike.... You loved me well in those days.”“Who is that man she speaks of?” demanded the bailiff.“I know not,” said the pale horseman. “The talk of this beggar-woman is no concern of ours. Let us move on.”But by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town, and they all began to take Katheline’s part, crying: “Justice! Justice, my Lord Bailiff! Justice!”And the bailiff said to Nele: “Who is the one that was killed? Speak the truth in God’s name.”Then Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:“This is the man who came every Saturday to thekeetto visit my mother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own friends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte; and this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent folly believes, but ratherthat he might get hold of her seven hundred caroluses and keep them all for himself.”“You lie,” said the pale horseman.“Oh no!” said Nele. “For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin; you that reduced her orphan son to misery; you—nobleman that you are—who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you brought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take her money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that friend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but, as you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend Hilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?”“Nele is naughty,” said Katheline. “You must not pay any attention to her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her by force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten him. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are beautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.”Nele accuses HansNele accuses HansNow the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but Katheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged, therefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people that were there assembled began to cry out:“Justice, my Lord! Justice!”At this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene, attracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed himself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:“My Lords and Gentlemen,—Notwithstanding all those privileges which protect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find myself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations which have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to be confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial accordingto the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then, your sword, Sir Joos!”At this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people cried out as with one voice:“Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!”And he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had dismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the prison of the commune.Nevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed in a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was made not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good bed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.XXXOn the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow began to melt and the meadows were all flooded.And the bell that is calledBorgstormsummoned the judges to the tribunal of theVierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because the grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And round about the tribunal stood the people of the town.Joos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he still wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there, but her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress, the dress of a prisoner.On being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having killed his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he confessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law of Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the space of ten years.Then the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.“No,” replied Damman.“Prove it,” said the bailiff.“That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,” said Joos Damman, “but not now.”Then the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no attention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:“You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put out the fire, my pet!”Then Nele spoke on Katheline’s behalf.“She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She is not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.”Then the bailiff said his say:“A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a devilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain object. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to be sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as the evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches’ Sabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money from her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also I find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man, taking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask, therefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a case where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?”The aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was not their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.Then the bailiff spake again:“Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad as she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it not probable that at the behest of herleman she might have committed the most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign themselves to the devil’s will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused to acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline has not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the Empire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.”And the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners were to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was the day but one following.And Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined with her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were taken back into the gaol.There, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered to provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards were commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to sleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her to sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman beat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung his head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to eat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day which followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food and drink—meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and saltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And this was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out with thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.There they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were, each to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords that hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass of water saturated with salt and saltpetre.Joos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was,but the sergeants soon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:“Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime, when he killed Hilbert—and that was done for love’s sake. Oh, but I am thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him something to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me up. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!”Joos said to her:“Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her into the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!”Meanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word that was being said. And the bailiff asked him:“Have you nothing to confess?”“I have nothing more to say,” replied Damman. “You know all that there is to know.”“Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,” said the bailiff, “let him remain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his crimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.”“So be it,” said Joos Damman. “And I will amuse myself by watching the sufferings of this old witch here.”And Katheline answered him, saying:“Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head is burning!”The clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff asked her:“Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?”But Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:“It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will give me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out the fire!” Then she began to cry out most horribly: “Water! Water! My head is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!”And she lost consciousness.Thereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of torture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to and fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords that had been bound too tight.“Give her to drink,” said the bailiff.And they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily, holding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing to let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have carried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet from her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.But Joos Damman cried out in his fury:“I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do you let her fall asleep?”“She is a woman,” answered the bailiff. “And she is weak and out of her mind.”“Her madness is only pretence,” said Joos Damman. “She is a witch. I want to drink, and I want to sleep.”And he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.“Give me a knife,” he cried, “that I may cut these varlets in pieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face before! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took the seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never committed any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave me alone and give me something to drink.”But the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he left Katheline.“I do not know Katheline at all,” he said, “therefore I never left her. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to answer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.”“Take him away,” said the bailiff, “put him back into his prison. But see that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep until he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.”And now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried out continually in his prison: “Water! Water!” And so loudly did he cry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt no pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards struck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:“I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the King our master. Water!”But he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.XXXIIt was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.Then the bailiff spoke as follows:“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Kathelinewith such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”And the clerk of the court read out as follows:“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”And the people cried out:“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,“Hanske.”“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.The bailiff said:“Let the two handwritings be compared.”When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drownedshe would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:Katheline led to the Trial by WaterKatheline led to the Trial by Water“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:“Let them throw me in with her!”But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, andplaced in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.XXXIIIn those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them—save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.And Ulenspiegel said:“Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?”An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:“The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up—let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!”“But,” answered Ulenspiegel, “we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.”Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. “And he is master here,” they added. “It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!”“A soldier’s word is a word of gold,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, parole d’or.Why should we ever break our word?”“No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,” they told him. “Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?”“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.“They will be hanged,” said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.“Not as long as I am alive,” said Ulenspiegel.“My son,” said Lamme, “you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful.”“I shall tell him the truth,” answered Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“If you think that you can save them,” said Marin, “I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.”“I will,” said Ulenspiegel.The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: “This man is a traitor.” Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:“O Rochus,” he said, “are they taking us to the gallows-field?” Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: “O city of Gorcum,” he cried, stretching out his hands, “O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!”“Cursed and accursed indeed!” answered Ulenspiegel. “As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!”The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.“Welcome,” said he, “Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!”One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:“Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection.”“He has well spoken,” said Ulenspiegel. “For having broken with the world—that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart—a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold—parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“And who are you?” asked Messire de Lumey.“My Lord,” replied Ulenspiegel, “a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one—and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep thepromise which was made to these men by the captain:parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.“My Lord,” said they, “this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.”Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:“Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them.”“I am not afraid,” replied Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered “all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.”The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.“Where are the originals?” inquired de Lumey.“My master has them,” said the messenger.“And the churl sends me the copy!” said de Lumey. “Where is your passport?”“Here, my Lord,” said the messenger.Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:“My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....” etc.De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.“Sang de Dieu!” he cried. “What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself ‘My Lord’ forsooth, and ‘Master,’ and sends to me his ‘orders’! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don’t get out at once.”And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.“Bring me to drink,” he cried. “Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?”And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.Ulenspiegel was brought before him.“Well?” he said. “What news of your friends the monks?”“They have been hanged,” said Ulenspiegel. “And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.“So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!”“Shame on you,” cried Ulenspiegel. “Shame on us all!Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Silence, Iron-pate!” said Messire de Lumey.“Shame on you again!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!”At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.“Strike,” said Ulenspiegel. “I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:“Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.”Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.“Let him ask my pardon then,” he said.But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.“Never,” he said.“At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,” cried de Lumey, growing angry again.Ulenspiegel answered:“I will lick no man’s boots.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Tell them to put up the gallows,” said de Lumey, “and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.”“Yes,” said Ulenspiegel, “and I will cry out there in front of all the people,Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”The gallows was set up in the market square, and the newsspread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.Très-Long said:“My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.”And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: “Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!”“The Iron-pate has defied me,” said de Lumey. “Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right.”“Will you?” said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.“Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or,” Ulenspiegel answered.“Draw the cord,” said de Lumey.The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.“This man is mine,” she said. “I take him for my husband.”And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:“Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!”“What does this mean?” demanded Messire de Lumey.Très-Long answered:“You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows.”“God is on his side,” said de Lumey. “Unloose his fetters.”Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn’t know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.“I am Nele,” she answered him, “the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him.”“You have done well,” said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.“Young Fleming,” he said, “when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?”“Yes, sir,” answered Ulenspiegel.“But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?”Nele answered:“If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.”“Very well,” said Très-Long.And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: “We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!”And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered,and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:“Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it’s you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!”“They have killed her,” she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:“Alas! my wife, where are you?”And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.And Nele’s head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:“Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!”She kissed him on the mouth, saying:“Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.”“I will make for you a soldier’s habit,” said Ulenspiegel.“Now? At once?”“At once,” he told her. “But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter.”

XXVIIUlenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a fleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from Blankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the followers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a silver crescent with this inscription: “Serve rather the Turk than the Pope.”Ulenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every side there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and Ulenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and thence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For by now it is the month of February.Now all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight imaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice; and women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl and gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went hither and thither, laughing and following one another in line, or two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice, and running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags, where one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and eggs and hot vegetables withheete-koeken—pancakes, that is, with vegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around themthe sailing sledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.Lamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered about on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept falling down time and again.Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to resort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high, and where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.One Sunday about nine o’clock he went to the inn and asked them to give him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to serve him.“Dear me,” he cried, “you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those old wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth again, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And your lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so sweet and roguish?”“Nay, nay,” she said. “But what can I get you?”“Yourself,” he said.The woman answered:“That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will not some other kind of meat do for you?”When Ulenspiegel made no answer:“What have you done,” she said, “with that handsome, well-set-up, but rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?”“Do you mean Lamme?” queried Ulenspiegel.“Yes. What have you done with him?” she repeated.“He is busy eating,” answered Ulenspiegel, “eating anything he can set his teeth upon—hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels and salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But why are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would you like a collar of gold?”But she crossed herself, saying:“I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.”“Do you love no one?” said Ulenspiegel.“I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and Our Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed and oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor women. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who succumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me, is he well and happy?”Ulenspiegel answered:“He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I will get him to come and see you.”“Do not do that,” she said; “he would weep and so should I.”“Have you ever seen his wife?” asked Ulenspiegel.“She sinned with him once,” the woman answered, “and was condemned therefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in the cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian heart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him if he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.”“Lamme is my brother and my friend,” answered Ulenspiegel.“Ah!” she said. “But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy Mother Church?”“She eats up her children,” answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.But one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept the ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away, Ulenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the prettybaesinesaid to him (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):“Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!”“Why do you pity us so?” he asked her.“Alas! alas!” she cried. “Why will you not believe in the Mass? And you did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I might be able to save you in this life also.”Seeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel said to her:“Is it the snow that you hear falling?”“No,” she said.“What then?”“It is death that comes like a thief in the night.”“Death,” exclaimed Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand you. Come back and tell me.”“They are there,” she said.“Who are?”“Who?” she said. “Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to come in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And if they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat the oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,” she cried all in tears, “why did I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!”“You must not cry,” said Ulenspiegel, “and you must stay where you are!”“Do not betray me,” she said.Ulenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went round to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the sailors and soldiers these words: “The Spaniards are coming.”At that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the haste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they waited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:“Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black dress embroidered with scarlet?”“It’s all one to me,” answered Lamme. “I am cold and I want to go to sleep.”And he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man who was deaf.But presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her from the vessel:“Would you like to come with us?”“Even to the death,” she answered, “but I cannot....”Then she came nearer to the ship.“Take this ointment,” she said. “It is for you and that fat friend of yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.”And she withdrew herself, crying:“Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.”And she uncovered her face.“My wife! My wife!” cried Lamme.And he would have jumped down to her.“Your faithful wife!” she said, running the while as fast as ever she could.Lamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was restrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost addressed him, saying:“You will be hanged if you leave the ship.”Yet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman held him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get his feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:“My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!”“You will see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves you, but she loves God more.”“Mad devil-woman that she is!” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”“Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?” demanded Ulenspiegel.In the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the scene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which promptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the ice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the west wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its covering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could be seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other, not without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began to dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of freedom and sailed out towards the open sea.“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”There they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche, Admiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire Très-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of mercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to its marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of an ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La Brièle, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.

XXVII

Ulenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a fleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from Blankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the followers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a silver crescent with this inscription: “Serve rather the Turk than the Pope.”Ulenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every side there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and Ulenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and thence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For by now it is the month of February.Now all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight imaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice; and women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl and gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went hither and thither, laughing and following one another in line, or two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice, and running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags, where one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and eggs and hot vegetables withheete-koeken—pancakes, that is, with vegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around themthe sailing sledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.Lamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered about on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept falling down time and again.Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to resort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high, and where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.One Sunday about nine o’clock he went to the inn and asked them to give him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to serve him.“Dear me,” he cried, “you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those old wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth again, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And your lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so sweet and roguish?”“Nay, nay,” she said. “But what can I get you?”“Yourself,” he said.The woman answered:“That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will not some other kind of meat do for you?”When Ulenspiegel made no answer:“What have you done,” she said, “with that handsome, well-set-up, but rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?”“Do you mean Lamme?” queried Ulenspiegel.“Yes. What have you done with him?” she repeated.“He is busy eating,” answered Ulenspiegel, “eating anything he can set his teeth upon—hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels and salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But why are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would you like a collar of gold?”But she crossed herself, saying:“I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.”“Do you love no one?” said Ulenspiegel.“I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and Our Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed and oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor women. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who succumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me, is he well and happy?”Ulenspiegel answered:“He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I will get him to come and see you.”“Do not do that,” she said; “he would weep and so should I.”“Have you ever seen his wife?” asked Ulenspiegel.“She sinned with him once,” the woman answered, “and was condemned therefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in the cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian heart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him if he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.”“Lamme is my brother and my friend,” answered Ulenspiegel.“Ah!” she said. “But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy Mother Church?”“She eats up her children,” answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.But one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept the ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away, Ulenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the prettybaesinesaid to him (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):“Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!”“Why do you pity us so?” he asked her.“Alas! alas!” she cried. “Why will you not believe in the Mass? And you did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I might be able to save you in this life also.”Seeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel said to her:“Is it the snow that you hear falling?”“No,” she said.“What then?”“It is death that comes like a thief in the night.”“Death,” exclaimed Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand you. Come back and tell me.”“They are there,” she said.“Who are?”“Who?” she said. “Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to come in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And if they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat the oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,” she cried all in tears, “why did I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!”“You must not cry,” said Ulenspiegel, “and you must stay where you are!”“Do not betray me,” she said.Ulenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went round to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the sailors and soldiers these words: “The Spaniards are coming.”At that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the haste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they waited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:“Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black dress embroidered with scarlet?”“It’s all one to me,” answered Lamme. “I am cold and I want to go to sleep.”And he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man who was deaf.But presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her from the vessel:“Would you like to come with us?”“Even to the death,” she answered, “but I cannot....”Then she came nearer to the ship.“Take this ointment,” she said. “It is for you and that fat friend of yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.”And she withdrew herself, crying:“Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.”And she uncovered her face.“My wife! My wife!” cried Lamme.And he would have jumped down to her.“Your faithful wife!” she said, running the while as fast as ever she could.Lamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was restrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost addressed him, saying:“You will be hanged if you leave the ship.”Yet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman held him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get his feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:“My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!”“You will see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves you, but she loves God more.”“Mad devil-woman that she is!” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”“Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?” demanded Ulenspiegel.In the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the scene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which promptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the ice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the west wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its covering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could be seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other, not without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began to dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of freedom and sailed out towards the open sea.“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”There they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche, Admiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire Très-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of mercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to its marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of an ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La Brièle, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.

Ulenspiegel and Lamme had come to Heyst-on-the-Dunes, and behold a fleet of fishing-boats that were come hither from Ostend and from Blankenberghe and Knokke. Filled they were with men-at-arms, the followers of the Beggarmen of Zeeland, who carried on their hats a silver crescent with this inscription: “Serve rather the Turk than the Pope.”

Ulenspiegel is glad; he whistles like the lark and from every side there comes to answer him the warlike cockcrow. And Lamme and Ulenspiegel go aboard one of the ships and are carried to Emden and thence to Wieringen, where their ship is hemmed in by the ice. For by now it is the month of February.

Now all around the ship there was to be seen the most joyous sight imaginable: men all clad in velvet, sledging and skating on the ice; and women skating too, with skirts and jackets broidered with pearl and gold, blue and scarlet. And the boys and girls came and went hither and thither, laughing and following one another in line, or two by two in couples, singing the song of love upon the ice, and running to eat and drink at the stalls decorated with flags, where one could buy all kinds of brandy-wine and oranges and figs and eggs and hot vegetables withheete-koeken—pancakes, that is, with vegetables flavoured with vinegar. And all around themthe sailing sledges made the ice to resound under the press of their sharp runners.

Lamme, who was still searching everywhere for his wife, wandered about on his skates like the rest of that happy crowd, but he kept falling down time and again.

Ulenspiegel, meanwhile, to satisfy his hunger and thirst, was wont to resort to a little tavern on the quay where the prices were not high, and where he used to have many a talk with the old lady who kept it.

One Sunday about nine o’clock he went to the inn and asked them to give him some dinner. A charming-looking young woman came forward to serve him.

“Dear me,” he cried, “you rejuvenated hostess! Where-ever are those old wrinkles of yours gone to? And your mouth has found all its teeth again, and they are white with the whiteness of youth itself! And your lips are red like cherries! Is it for me this smile of yours so sweet and roguish?”

“Nay, nay,” she said. “But what can I get you?”

“Yourself,” he said.

The woman answered:

“That would be too big a meal for a lean little man like you. Will not some other kind of meat do for you?”

When Ulenspiegel made no answer:

“What have you done,” she said, “with that handsome, well-set-up, but rather corpulent gentleman I have so often seen in your company?”

“Do you mean Lamme?” queried Ulenspiegel.

“Yes. What have you done with him?” she repeated.

“He is busy eating,” answered Ulenspiegel, “eating anything he can set his teeth upon—hard-boiled eggs from the street stalls, smoked eels and salted fish: and all this, forsooth, to help him find his wife. But why are you not she, my sweet? Would you like fifty florins? Would you like a collar of gold?”

But she crossed herself, saying:

“I am not to be bought, nor yet taken.”

“Do you love no one?” said Ulenspiegel.

“I love you as my neighbour; but above all I love Our Lord and Our Lady, they that command me to live an honest life. Hard indeed and oftentimes burdensome are the duties that are laid on us poor women. Nevertheless God gives us his aid. Yet some there are who succumb to temptation. But this fat friend of yours, come, tell me, is he well and happy?”

Ulenspiegel answered:

“He is gay when he is eating, but sad and pensive when he is empty. I will get him to come and see you.”

“Do not do that,” she said; “he would weep and so should I.”

“Have you ever seen his wife?” asked Ulenspiegel.

“She sinned with him once,” the woman answered, “and was condemned therefor to a cruel punishment. She knows that he goes a-seafaring in the cause of the heretics, and this is a cruel thought for a Christian heart. But protect him, I pray you, if he is attacked, and nurse him if he is wounded: his wife ordered me thus to entreat you.”

“Lamme is my brother and my friend,” answered Ulenspiegel.

“Ah!” she said. “But why will you not return to the bosom of our Holy Mother Church?”

“She eats up her children,” answered Ulenspiegel. And he departed.

But one morning in March, while still the cold winds of winter kept the ice frozen, so that the ship of the Beggarmen could not make away, Ulenspiegel came again to the tavern. And the prettybaesinesaid to him (and there was great emotion and sorrow in her voice):

“Poor Lamme! Poor Ulenspiegel!”

“Why do you pity us so?” he asked her.

“Alas! alas!” she cried. “Why will you not believe in the Mass? And you did, you would go straight to Paradise without a doubt, and I might be able to save you in this life also.”

Seeing her go to the door and listen there attentively, Ulenspiegel said to her:

“Is it the snow that you hear falling?”

“No,” she said.

“What then?”

“It is death that comes like a thief in the night.”

“Death,” exclaimed Ulenspiegel. “I do not understand you. Come back and tell me.”

“They are there,” she said.

“Who are?”

“Who?” she said. “Why, the soldiers of Simonen Bol, who are about to come in the name of the Duke and throw themselves upon you all. And if they treat you well while you are here, it is only as men treat the oxen they mean to kill. Oh why,” she cried all in tears, “why did I not know all this before, so that I could have warned you!”

“You must not cry,” said Ulenspiegel, “and you must stay where you are!”

“Do not betray me,” she said.

Ulenspiegel went out of the house, ran as fast as he could, and went round to all the booths and taverns in the place, whispering to the sailors and soldiers these words: “The Spaniards are coming.”

At that they ran every one to the ship, and prepared with all the haste they knew whatever things were necessary for battle. Then they waited for the evening. While they were waiting thus, Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:

“Do you see that pretty-looking woman on the quay there, in a black dress embroidered with scarlet?”

“It’s all one to me,” answered Lamme. “I am cold and I want to go to sleep.”

And he threw his great cloak around his head, and became like a man who was deaf.

But presently Ulenspiegel recognized the woman and cried out to her from the vessel:

“Would you like to come with us?”

“Even to the death,” she answered, “but I cannot....”

Then she came nearer to the ship.

“Take this ointment,” she said. “It is for you and that fat friend of yours who goes to sleep when he ought to be awake.”

And she withdrew herself, crying:

“Lamme! Lamme! May God keep you from harm and bring you back safe.”

And she uncovered her face.

“My wife! My wife!” cried Lamme.

And he would have jumped down to her.

“Your faithful wife!” she said, running the while as fast as ever she could.

Lamme would have leaped down from the deck on to the ice, but he was restrained by a soldier who caught him by his cloak, and the provost addressed him, saying:

“You will be hanged if you leave the ship.”

Yet again did Lamme try to throw himself down, but an old Beggarman held him back, telling him that the ice was damp and that he would get his feet wet. And Lamme sat down on the deck weeping and crying ever:

“My wife! My wife! Let me go and find my wife!”

“You will see her again,” said Ulenspiegel. “She loves you, but she loves God more.”

“Mad devil-woman that she is!” cried Lamme. “If she loves God more than her husband, why does she show herself to me so sweet and so desirable? And if she loves me, why does she leave me?”

“Can you see clearly to the bottom of a deep well?” demanded Ulenspiegel.

In the meanwhile the followers of Simonen Bol had appeared on the scene with a large force of artillery. They shot at the ship, which promptly repaid them in similar coin. And the bullets broke up the ice all around. And towards evening a warm rain began to fall, and the west wind blew from the Atlantic, and the sea grew angry beneath its covering of ice, and the ice was broken into huge blocks which could be seen rising and falling to hurl themselves one against the other, not without danger to the ship, which, nevertheless, as dawn began to dissipate the clouds of night, opened its sails like a bird of freedom and sailed out towards the open sea.

“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”

“The ashes of Claes beat upon my heart”

There they were joined by the fleet of Messire de Lumey de la Marche, Admiral of Holland and Zeeland; and on that day the ship of Messire Très-Long captured a vessel from Biscay that carried a cargo of mercury, gunpowder, wine, and spices. And the vessel was cleaned to its marrow, emptied of its men and its booty, even as the bone of an ox is cleaned by the teeth of a lion. And the Beggarmen took La Brièle, a strong naval base, well called the Garden of Liberty.

XXVIIIIt was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!And again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!And all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and they also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and sang out also:The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!And the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder of deliverance.

XXVIII

It was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!And again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!And all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and they also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and sang out also:The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!And the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder of deliverance.

It was at the beginning of May. The sky was clear, the ship sailed proudly on the billows, and Ulenspiegel sang this song:

The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!

The ashes beat on my heart,The murderers are come;With daggers have they struck at us,Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,Where are love and fidelity now?In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!Beat, beat, drum of war!

The ashes beat on my heart,

The murderers are come;

With daggers have they struck at us,

Fiercely, with fire and sword have they struck at us,

They have bribed us most vilely and spied on us,

Where are love and fidelity now?

In exchange for those sweetest of virtues,

Betrayal and fraud have they heaped on us.

Yet may they that have murdered be murdered themselves!

Beat, beat, drum of war!

Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!La Brièle has fallen,Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.God is with us—against us, then, who?

Long live the Beggarmen! Loud beat the drum!

La Brièle has fallen,

Flushing too, the key to the Scheldt!

God is good, for Camp-veere is taken,

Taken the place where the guns of all Zeeland were stored!

Now cannon-balls, powder, and bullets are ours,

Bullets of iron, bullets of brass.

God is with us—against us, then, who?

The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!

The drum! Beat the drum of glory and war!

Long live the Beggarmen! Beat the drum!

And again Ulenspiegel lifted up his voice and sang:

O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!

O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,Murmuring so strong in the distance,Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!Enough of silver and gold and of blood,Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!The sword is drawn.

O Duke! Hark to the voice of the People,

Murmuring so strong in the distance,

Like the sea that swells in the season of tempest!

Enough of silver and gold and of blood,

Of ruins enough! Beat the drum! Beat the drum!

The sword is drawn.

Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.When you pass who’ll salute you?None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mistOf hate and scorn closing around you?

Duke! Duke of Alba, Duke of Blood,

Behold the stalls and the shops, they are closed.

Brewers and bakers, grocers and butchers,

Refuse one and all to do business for nothing.

When you pass who’ll salute you?

None. Do you feel, then, the pestilent mist

Of hate and scorn closing around you?

For the fair land of Flanders,The gay land of Brabant,Now are sad as a churchyard.And where once in the days of our libertySounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,Now there is silence and death.Beat the drum, the drum of war.

For the fair land of Flanders,

The gay land of Brabant,

Now are sad as a churchyard.

And where once in the days of our liberty

Sounded the violas, screamed the fifes and the bagpipes,

Now there is silence and death.

Beat the drum, the drum of war.

And now, ’stead of all the glad facesOf those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,Now is naught but pale facesOf they that await in dumb resignationThe blade of the sword of injustice.Beat the drum, the drum of war.

And now, ’stead of all the glad faces

Of those that drank and made love to the sound of sweet singing,

Now is naught but pale faces

Of they that await in dumb resignation

The blade of the sword of injustice.

Beat the drum, the drum of war.

O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!And you, busy bees, fling yourselves nowIn swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.And you bodies of women and girlsThat are buried aliveCry to Christ: Vengeance!

O land of our fathers, suffering, belovèd,

Bow not your head ’neath the foot of the murderer!

And you, busy bees, fling yourselves now

In swarms ’gainst the hornets of Spain.

And you bodies of women and girls

That are buried alive

Cry to Christ: Vengeance!

Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,Cry to God!Every arm now trembles to strike.The sword is drawn.Duke, we will tear out your entrails,Yea, we will whip you in the face!Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!

Wander by night in the fields, poor souls,

Cry to God!

Every arm now trembles to strike.

The sword is drawn.

Duke, we will tear out your entrails,

Yea, we will whip you in the face!

Beat the drum. The sword is drawn.

Beat the drum. Long live the Beggarmen!

And all the sailors and soldiers on the ship of Ulenspiegel, and they also that were on the ships near by, took up the refrain and sang out also:

The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!

The sword is drawn. Long live the Beggarmen!

And the sound of their voices was like the growl of the thunder of deliverance.

XXIXIt was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in the womb of the cow. Snow had fallenover all the land, and then frozen hard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that came to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow; and whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against the grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves in motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were with cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and the tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who themselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide the fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms the earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and cottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything there brooded a great stillness.And Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline wagged her head, crying continually:“Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your kisses cold as snow?” And she stood watching at the window.Suddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:“Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!”And he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to gather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in the silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet, and straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors thinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty himself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline also went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a troop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a magnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And she knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.Now behind him there rode a company of youthful Lordsclad in long cloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with buttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes waving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good comrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them was a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings, and like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also was adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture’s beak, his mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale, and very proud was his bearing.While the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage, Katheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale horseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:“Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful like this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against the snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall I hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?”The high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale gentleman said:“What does this beggar-woman want with me?”But Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:“You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried for you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow, O body of ice! See, this is your child!”And she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror, for now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at Katheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all the time:“Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with you whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!”“Get out of the way!” he said. And he urged on hissteed so quickly that Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell on to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound upon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as to whether he knew aught of the woman.“I know her not,” was the answer. “She is out of her wits, doubtless.”But by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. “If this woman is mad,” she said, “at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am ready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating”—and here Nele took and ate of the snow with her fingers—“if this horseman has not had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend him money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that killed the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from the wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to the poor man that is dead.”“Hans, my pet,” sobbed Katheline, “give me the kiss of peace. Time was when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the dike.... You loved me well in those days.”“Who is that man she speaks of?” demanded the bailiff.“I know not,” said the pale horseman. “The talk of this beggar-woman is no concern of ours. Let us move on.”But by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town, and they all began to take Katheline’s part, crying: “Justice! Justice, my Lord Bailiff! Justice!”And the bailiff said to Nele: “Who is the one that was killed? Speak the truth in God’s name.”Then Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:“This is the man who came every Saturday to thekeetto visit my mother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own friends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte; and this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent folly believes, but ratherthat he might get hold of her seven hundred caroluses and keep them all for himself.”“You lie,” said the pale horseman.“Oh no!” said Nele. “For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin; you that reduced her orphan son to misery; you—nobleman that you are—who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you brought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take her money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that friend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but, as you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend Hilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?”“Nele is naughty,” said Katheline. “You must not pay any attention to her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her by force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten him. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are beautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.”Nele accuses HansNele accuses HansNow the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but Katheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged, therefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people that were there assembled began to cry out:“Justice, my Lord! Justice!”At this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene, attracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed himself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:“My Lords and Gentlemen,—Notwithstanding all those privileges which protect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find myself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations which have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to be confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial accordingto the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then, your sword, Sir Joos!”At this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people cried out as with one voice:“Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!”And he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had dismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the prison of the commune.Nevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed in a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was made not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good bed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.

XXIX

It was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in the womb of the cow. Snow had fallenover all the land, and then frozen hard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that came to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow; and whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against the grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves in motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were with cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and the tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who themselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide the fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms the earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and cottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything there brooded a great stillness.And Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline wagged her head, crying continually:“Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your kisses cold as snow?” And she stood watching at the window.Suddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:“Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!”And he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to gather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in the silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet, and straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors thinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty himself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline also went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a troop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a magnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And she knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.Now behind him there rode a company of youthful Lordsclad in long cloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with buttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes waving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good comrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them was a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings, and like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also was adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture’s beak, his mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale, and very proud was his bearing.While the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage, Katheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale horseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:“Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful like this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against the snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall I hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?”The high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale gentleman said:“What does this beggar-woman want with me?”But Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:“You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried for you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow, O body of ice! See, this is your child!”And she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror, for now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at Katheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all the time:“Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with you whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!”“Get out of the way!” he said. And he urged on hissteed so quickly that Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell on to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound upon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as to whether he knew aught of the woman.“I know her not,” was the answer. “She is out of her wits, doubtless.”But by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. “If this woman is mad,” she said, “at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am ready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating”—and here Nele took and ate of the snow with her fingers—“if this horseman has not had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend him money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that killed the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from the wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to the poor man that is dead.”“Hans, my pet,” sobbed Katheline, “give me the kiss of peace. Time was when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the dike.... You loved me well in those days.”“Who is that man she speaks of?” demanded the bailiff.“I know not,” said the pale horseman. “The talk of this beggar-woman is no concern of ours. Let us move on.”But by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town, and they all began to take Katheline’s part, crying: “Justice! Justice, my Lord Bailiff! Justice!”And the bailiff said to Nele: “Who is the one that was killed? Speak the truth in God’s name.”Then Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:“This is the man who came every Saturday to thekeetto visit my mother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own friends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte; and this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent folly believes, but ratherthat he might get hold of her seven hundred caroluses and keep them all for himself.”“You lie,” said the pale horseman.“Oh no!” said Nele. “For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin; you that reduced her orphan son to misery; you—nobleman that you are—who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you brought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take her money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that friend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but, as you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend Hilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?”“Nele is naughty,” said Katheline. “You must not pay any attention to her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her by force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten him. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are beautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.”Nele accuses HansNele accuses HansNow the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but Katheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged, therefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people that were there assembled began to cry out:“Justice, my Lord! Justice!”At this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene, attracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed himself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:“My Lords and Gentlemen,—Notwithstanding all those privileges which protect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find myself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations which have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to be confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial accordingto the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then, your sword, Sir Joos!”At this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people cried out as with one voice:“Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!”And he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had dismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the prison of the commune.Nevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed in a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was made not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good bed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.

It was the month of January, the cruel month that freezes the calf in the womb of the cow. Snow had fallenover all the land, and then frozen hard. The boys went out to snare with bird-lime the sparrows that came to seek what nourishment they could find on the hardened snow; and whatever they took they brought back to their cottages. Against the grey, bright sky the skeletons of the trees detached themselves in motionless outline, and their branches were covered as it were with cushions of snow, and the roofs of the cottages likewise, and the tops of the walls where showed the footprints of the cats who themselves went out hunting for sparrows in the snow. Far and wide the fields were hidden under that wonderful white fleece which warms the earth against the bitter cold of winter. The smoke of houses and cottages showed black as it mounted heavenwards, and over everything there brooded a great stillness.

And Katheline and Nele lived alone in their cottage, and Katheline wagged her head, crying continually:

“Hans, my heart is yours. But you must give back those seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! My head is burning! Alas! Where are your kisses cold as snow?” And she stood watching at the window.

Suddenly a horseman rode past at the gallop, crying:

“Here comes the bailiff, the high bailiff of Damme!”

And he went on to the Town Hall, crying out all the time, so as to gather together the burghers and the aldermen. And thereafter in the silence that ensued Nele could hear two blasts of a trumpet, and straightway all the people of Damme came running to their doors thinking that it must be no less a personage than His Royal Majesty himself whose arrival was announced by such a fanfare. And Katheline also went to her door with Nele, and in the distance she could see a troop of splendid horsemen riding all together, and at their head a magnificent figure in a cloak of black velvet edged with sable. And she knew him at once for the high bailiff of Damme.

Now behind him there rode a company of youthful Lordsclad in long cloaks, and they rode along gaily, and their coats were adorned with buttons and trimmings of gold, and their hats with long ostrich plumes waving gaily in the wind. And they seemed one and all to be good comrades and friends of the high bailiff; and conspicuous among them was a thin-faced gentleman dressed in green velvet and gold trimmings, and like the others his cloak was of black velvet and his hat also was adorned with black plumes. And his nose was like a vulture’s beak, his mouth compressed and thin, and his beard was red and his face pale, and very proud was his bearing.

While the company of gentlemen was passing before the cottage, Katheline suddenly ran forward and leapt at the bridle of the pale horseman, and cried out, mad with joy as it seemed:

“Hans! My beloved, I knew you would come back! Oh, you are beautiful like this, all clad in velvet and gold, shining like a sun against the snow! Have you brought me those seven hundred caroluses? Shall I hear you again crying like the sea-eagle?”

The high bailiff brought the cavalcade to a stand, and the pale gentleman said:

“What does this beggar-woman want with me?”

But Katheline, still holding the horse by the bridle, made answer:“You must be dreaming, Hans. Wake up from your dream! I have cried for you so long. O nights of love, my beloved! O kisses of snow, O body of ice! See, this is your child!”

And she pointed to Nele, who was gazing at the man with terror, for now he had raised his whip as though he were about to strike at Katheline. But Katheline still continued her entreaties, weeping all the time:

“Ah! Do you not remember? Have pity on your servant! Take her with you whithersoever you will! Put out the fire! Hans, have pity!”

“Get out of the way!” he said. And he urged on hissteed so quickly that Katheline was forced to loose hold of the bridle, and she fell on to the road, and the horse went over her, leaving a bleeding wound upon her forehead. Then the bailiff inquired of the pale horseman as to whether he knew aught of the woman.

“I know her not,” was the answer. “She is out of her wits, doubtless.”

But by this time Nele had helped up Katheline from the ground. “If this woman is mad,” she said, “at least, my Lord, I am not. And I am ready to die here and now of this snow that I am eating”—and here Nele took and ate of the snow with her fingers—“if this horseman has not had knowledge of my mother, and if he has not forced her to lend him money, nay, all the money that she had, and if it was not he that killed the dog which belonged to Claes, so that he might take from the wall of the well those seven hundred caroluses which belonged to the poor man that is dead.”

“Hans, my pet,” sobbed Katheline, “give me the kiss of peace. Time was when you killed your friend because you were jealous, by the dike.... You loved me well in those days.”

“Who is that man she speaks of?” demanded the bailiff.

“I know not,” said the pale horseman. “The talk of this beggar-woman is no concern of ours. Let us move on.”

But by now a crowd of people had collected, workpeople of the town, and they all began to take Katheline’s part, crying: “Justice! Justice, my Lord Bailiff! Justice!”

And the bailiff said to Nele: “Who is the one that was killed? Speak the truth in God’s name.”

Then Nele said her say, pointing the while at the pale horseman:

“This is the man who came every Saturday to thekeetto visit my mother, and to take her money from her. He killed one of his own friends, Hilbert by name, in the field of Servaes Van der Vichte; and this he did not from any love of Katheline, as she in her innocent folly believes, but ratherthat he might get hold of her seven hundred caroluses and keep them all for himself.”

“You lie,” said the pale horseman.

“Oh no!” said Nele. “For it is you that caused the death of Soetkin; you that reduced her orphan son to misery; you—nobleman that you are—who came to us, common people, and the first time you came you brought money to my mother, so that ever afterwards you might take her money from her! And you it is that introduced into our house that friend of yours to whom you would have given me in marriage; but, as you know, I would have none of him. What did he do, your friend Hilbert, that time I tore his eyes with my finger-nails?”

“Nele is naughty,” said Katheline. “You must not pay any attention to her, Hans, my pet. She is angry because Hilbert tried to take her by force; but Hilbert cannot do so any more. The worms have eaten him. And Hilbert was ugly, Hans, my pet. It is you alone that are beautiful, and Nele, she is naughty.”

Nele accuses HansNele accuses Hans

Nele accuses Hans

Now the bailiff ordered the women to go about their business, but Katheline would not budge from where she stood. They were obliged, therefore, to take her into the cottage by force. And all the people that were there assembled began to cry out:

“Justice, my Lord! Justice!”

At this moment the sergeants of the commune came upon the scene, attracted by the noise, and the bailiff, bidding them wait, addressed himself to the Lords and nobles in the following manner:

“My Lords and Gentlemen,—Notwithstanding all those privileges which protect the illustrious order of the nobility of Flanders, I find myself constrained to arrest Joos Damman on account of the accusations which have been brought against him. And I therefore order him to be confined to prison until such time as he can be brought to trial accordingto the laws and ordinances of the Empire. Hand me, then, your sword, Sir Joos!”

At this command Joos Damman was seen to hesitate, but all the people cried out as with one voice:

“Justice, my Lord! Justice! Let him deliver up his sword!”

And he was obliged to do so in spite of himself; and when he had dismounted from his horse he was conducted by the sergeants to the prison of the commune.

Nevertheless he was not confined in one of the dungeons, but was placed in a room with barred windows, where, for a payment of money, he was made not too uncomfortable. For he was provided with a fire, a good bed, and some good food, half of which, however, went to the gaoler.

XXXOn the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow began to melt and the meadows were all flooded.And the bell that is calledBorgstormsummoned the judges to the tribunal of theVierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because the grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And round about the tribunal stood the people of the town.Joos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he still wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there, but her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress, the dress of a prisoner.On being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having killed his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he confessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law of Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the space of ten years.Then the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.“No,” replied Damman.“Prove it,” said the bailiff.“That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,” said Joos Damman, “but not now.”Then the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no attention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:“You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put out the fire, my pet!”Then Nele spoke on Katheline’s behalf.“She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She is not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.”Then the bailiff said his say:“A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a devilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain object. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to be sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as the evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches’ Sabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money from her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also I find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man, taking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask, therefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a case where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?”The aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was not their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.Then the bailiff spake again:“Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad as she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it not probable that at the behest of herleman she might have committed the most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign themselves to the devil’s will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused to acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline has not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the Empire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.”And the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners were to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was the day but one following.And Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined with her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were taken back into the gaol.There, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered to provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards were commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to sleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her to sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman beat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung his head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to eat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day which followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food and drink—meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and saltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And this was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out with thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.There they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were, each to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords that hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass of water saturated with salt and saltpetre.Joos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was,but the sergeants soon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:“Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime, when he killed Hilbert—and that was done for love’s sake. Oh, but I am thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him something to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me up. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!”Joos said to her:“Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her into the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!”Meanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word that was being said. And the bailiff asked him:“Have you nothing to confess?”“I have nothing more to say,” replied Damman. “You know all that there is to know.”“Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,” said the bailiff, “let him remain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his crimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.”“So be it,” said Joos Damman. “And I will amuse myself by watching the sufferings of this old witch here.”And Katheline answered him, saying:“Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head is burning!”The clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff asked her:“Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?”But Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:“It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will give me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out the fire!” Then she began to cry out most horribly: “Water! Water! My head is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!”And she lost consciousness.Thereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of torture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to and fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords that had been bound too tight.“Give her to drink,” said the bailiff.And they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily, holding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing to let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have carried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet from her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.But Joos Damman cried out in his fury:“I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do you let her fall asleep?”“She is a woman,” answered the bailiff. “And she is weak and out of her mind.”“Her madness is only pretence,” said Joos Damman. “She is a witch. I want to drink, and I want to sleep.”And he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.“Give me a knife,” he cried, “that I may cut these varlets in pieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face before! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took the seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never committed any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave me alone and give me something to drink.”But the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he left Katheline.“I do not know Katheline at all,” he said, “therefore I never left her. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to answer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.”“Take him away,” said the bailiff, “put him back into his prison. But see that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep until he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.”And now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried out continually in his prison: “Water! Water!” And so loudly did he cry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt no pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards struck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:“I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the King our master. Water!”But he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.

XXX

On the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow began to melt and the meadows were all flooded.And the bell that is calledBorgstormsummoned the judges to the tribunal of theVierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because the grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And round about the tribunal stood the people of the town.Joos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he still wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there, but her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress, the dress of a prisoner.On being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having killed his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he confessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law of Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the space of ten years.Then the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.“No,” replied Damman.“Prove it,” said the bailiff.“That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,” said Joos Damman, “but not now.”Then the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no attention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:“You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put out the fire, my pet!”Then Nele spoke on Katheline’s behalf.“She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She is not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.”Then the bailiff said his say:“A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a devilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain object. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to be sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as the evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches’ Sabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money from her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also I find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man, taking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask, therefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a case where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?”The aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was not their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.Then the bailiff spake again:“Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad as she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it not probable that at the behest of herleman she might have committed the most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign themselves to the devil’s will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused to acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline has not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the Empire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.”And the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners were to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was the day but one following.And Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined with her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were taken back into the gaol.There, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered to provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards were commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to sleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her to sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman beat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung his head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to eat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day which followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food and drink—meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and saltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And this was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out with thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.There they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were, each to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords that hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass of water saturated with salt and saltpetre.Joos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was,but the sergeants soon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:“Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime, when he killed Hilbert—and that was done for love’s sake. Oh, but I am thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him something to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me up. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!”Joos said to her:“Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her into the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!”Meanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word that was being said. And the bailiff asked him:“Have you nothing to confess?”“I have nothing more to say,” replied Damman. “You know all that there is to know.”“Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,” said the bailiff, “let him remain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his crimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.”“So be it,” said Joos Damman. “And I will amuse myself by watching the sufferings of this old witch here.”And Katheline answered him, saying:“Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head is burning!”The clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff asked her:“Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?”But Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:“It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will give me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out the fire!” Then she began to cry out most horribly: “Water! Water! My head is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!”And she lost consciousness.Thereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of torture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to and fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords that had been bound too tight.“Give her to drink,” said the bailiff.And they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily, holding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing to let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have carried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet from her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.But Joos Damman cried out in his fury:“I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do you let her fall asleep?”“She is a woman,” answered the bailiff. “And she is weak and out of her mind.”“Her madness is only pretence,” said Joos Damman. “She is a witch. I want to drink, and I want to sleep.”And he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.“Give me a knife,” he cried, “that I may cut these varlets in pieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face before! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took the seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never committed any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave me alone and give me something to drink.”But the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he left Katheline.“I do not know Katheline at all,” he said, “therefore I never left her. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to answer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.”“Take him away,” said the bailiff, “put him back into his prison. But see that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep until he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.”And now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried out continually in his prison: “Water! Water!” And so loudly did he cry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt no pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards struck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:“I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the King our master. Water!”But he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.

On the morrow there came a soft wind blowing from Brabant. The snow began to melt and the meadows were all flooded.

And the bell that is calledBorgstormsummoned the judges to the tribunal of theVierschare. And they sat under the penthouse, because the grassy banks where they were accustomed to sit were too damp. And round about the tribunal stood the people of the town.

Joos Damman was brought before the judges. He was not in bonds, and he still wore the dress of a nobleman. Katheline was also brought there, but her hands were tied in front of her, and she wore a grey dress, the dress of a prisoner.

On being examined, Joos Damman pleaded guilty to the charge of having killed his friend Hilbert with a sword in single combat; and this he confessed willingly because, as he said, he was protected by the law of Flanders, which made a murderer safe from conviction after the space of ten years.

Then the bailiff asked him if he was a sorcerer.

“No,” replied Damman.

“Prove it,” said the bailiff.

“That I will do at the right time and in the proper place,” said Joos Damman, “but not now.”

Then the bailiff began to question Katheline. She, however, paid no attention to his questions, but kept her eyes fixed on Hans, saying:

“You are my green master. Beautiful you are as the Sun himself. Put out the fire, my pet!”

Then Nele spoke on Katheline’s behalf.

“She can tell you naught, my Lord, that you do not know already. She is not a sorceress. She is only out of her mind.”

Then the bailiff said his say:

“A sorcerer, I would remind you, is one who knowingly employs a devilish art, or devilish arts, for the attainment of a certain object. Well, these two persons, the man and the woman, I find to be sorcerers both in intention and in fact; the man because, as the evidence states, he gave to this woman the balm of the Witches’ Sabbath, and made his visage like unto Lucifer so as to obtain money from her and the satisfaction of his wanton desires. And the woman also I find to be a sorceress because she submitted herself to the man, taking him for a devil and abandoning herself to his will. I ask, therefore, if the gentlemen of the tribunal are agreed that it is a case where the prisoners should both be sent to the torture?”

The aldermen did not answer, but showed clearly enough that such was not their desire, so far at any rate as Katheline was concerned.

Then the bailiff spake again:

“Like you I am moved with pity and compassion for the woman, but mad as she undoubtedly is and obedient in all things to the devil, is it not probable that at the behest of herleman she might have committed the most horrible crimes and abominations, as do all those who resign themselves to the devil’s will? No. Since Joos Damman has refused to acknowledge any crime save that of murder, and since Katheline has not told us anything at all, it is clear that by the laws of the Empire we are bound to proceed in the manner I have indicated.”

And the aldermen gave sentence to the effect that the two prisoners were to be committed to torture on the following Friday, which was the day but one following.

And Nele cried out for mercy upon Katheline, and the people joined with her in supplication, but all in vain. And the prisoners were taken back into the gaol.

There, by order of the tribunal, the keeper of the gaol was ordered to provide a couple of guards for each prisoner, and these guards were commanded to beat them whenever they looked like going off to sleep. Now the two guards that were allotted to Katheline suffered her to sleep during the night; but they that were assigned to Joos Damman beat him unmercifully every time that he closed his eyes or even hung his head down. And neither of the prisoners was given anything to eat through all that Wednesday, and through all the night and day which followed. But on the Thursday evening they were given food and drink—meat, that is to say, which had been soaked in salt and saltpetre, and water which had been salted in a similar fashion. And this was the beginning of their torture. And in the morning, crying out with thirst, they were led by the sergeants into the chamber of doom.

There they were set opposite to one another, bound as they were, each to a separate bench which itself was covered with knotted cords that hurt them grievously. And they were both made to drink a glass of water saturated with salt and saltpetre.

Joos Damman began to fall off to sleep where he was,but the sergeants soon beat him awake again. And Katheline said:

“Do not beat him, kind sirs. He has committed but a single crime, when he killed Hilbert—and that was done for love’s sake. Oh, but I am thirsty! And you also are thirsty, Hans, my beloved! Pray give him something to drink first of all. Water! Water! My body is burning me up. But spare him. I will die for him. Water!”

Joos said to her:

“Ugly old witch that you are, go and die for all I care! Throw her into the fire, my Lords! Oh, but I am thirsty!”

Meanwhile the clerks of the court were busy writing down every word that was being said. And the bailiff asked him:

“Have you nothing to confess?”

“I have nothing more to say,” replied Damman. “You know all that there is to know.”

“Forasmuch as he persists in his denials,” said the bailiff, “let him remain where he is until he shall have made a complete avowal of his crimes. Let him neither eat nor drink nor go to sleep.”

“So be it,” said Joos Damman. “And I will amuse myself by watching the sufferings of this old witch here.”

And Katheline answered him, saying:

“Cold arms, warm heart, Hans, my beloved! I am thirsty, my head is burning!”

The clerk of the court wrote down what she said, and the bailiff asked her:

“Woman, have you nothing to say in your own defence?”

But Katheline only gazed at Joos Damman, and said very amorously:

“It is the hour of the sea-eagle, Hans, my pet. They say that you will give me back the seven hundred caroluses. Put out the fire! Put out the fire!” Then she began to cry out most horribly: “Water! Water! My head is burning! God and His angels are eating apples in heaven!”

And she lost consciousness.

Thereupon the bailiff ordered her to be released from the bench of torture; which was done, and thereafter she was seen to stagger to and fro because of her feet, which were all swollen from the cords that had been bound too tight.

“Give her to drink,” said the bailiff.

And they gave her some fresh water which she swallowed greedily, holding the goblet between her teeth as a dog holds a bone and refusing to let it go. Then they gave her more water, and this she would have carried over to Joos Damman had not the torturer wrested the goblet from her hand. And she fell down asleep, like a piece of lead.

But Joos Damman cried out in his fury:

“I also am thirsty and sleepy. Why do you give her to drink? Why do you let her fall asleep?”

“She is a woman,” answered the bailiff. “And she is weak and out of her mind.”

“Her madness is only pretence,” said Joos Damman. “She is a witch. I want to drink, and I want to sleep.”

And he closed his eyes, but his tormentors struck him in the face.

“Give me a knife,” he cried, “that I may cut these varlets in pieces. I am a nobleman; no one has ever struck me in the face before! Water! Let me sleep. I am innocent. It is not I that took the seven hundred caroluses, it was Hilbert. Water! I have never committed any sorceries nor any incantations. I am innocent. Leave me alone and give me something to drink.”

But the bailiff only asked him how he had passed the time after he left Katheline.

“I do not know Katheline at all,” he said, “therefore I never left her. You have asked me an unfair question, and I am not bound to answer it. Give me something to drink. Let me go to sleep. I tell you it was Hilbert who was responsible for everything.”

“Take him away,” said the bailiff, “put him back into his prison. But see that he has nothing to drink, and that he does not fall asleep until he has admitted his sorceries and incantations.”

And now Damman suffered the most cruel torture of all, and he cried out continually in his prison: “Water! Water!” And so loudly did he cry that the people outside could hear him, nevertheless they felt no pity for him. And when he began to fall off to sleep the guards struck him in the face, and he cried out again, like a tiger:

“I am a nobleman, and I will kill you, you varlets! I will go to the King our master. Water!”

But he would confess nothing at all, and they left him where he was.

XXXIIt was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.Then the bailiff spoke as follows:“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Kathelinewith such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”And the clerk of the court read out as follows:“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”And the people cried out:“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,“Hanske.”“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.The bailiff said:“Let the two handwritings be compared.”When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drownedshe would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:Katheline led to the Trial by WaterKatheline led to the Trial by Water“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:“Let them throw me in with her!”But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, andplaced in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.

XXXI

It was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.Then the bailiff spoke as follows:“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Kathelinewith such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”And the clerk of the court read out as follows:“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”And the people cried out:“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,“Hanske.”“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.The bailiff said:“Let the two handwritings be compared.”When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drownedshe would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:Katheline led to the Trial by WaterKatheline led to the Trial by Water“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:“Let them throw me in with her!”But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, andplaced in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.

It was the month of May. The Tree of Justice was green again. Green also were those grassy banks where the judges were wont to seat themselves. Nele was summoned to give evidence, for it was the day on which the judgment was to be promulgated. And the people—men and women—of Damme, stood around the open space of the court, and the sun shone brightly.

Katheline and Joos Damman were now brought before the tribunal, and Damman appeared more pale than ever because of the torture he had suffered, the many nights he had passed without sleep or anything to drink. As for Katheline, she could scarcely support herself on her tottering legs, and she pointed to the sun continually, and cried out: “Put out the fire! My head is burning!” And she gazed at Joos Damman with tender love. And he looked back at her with hate and despite. And his friends, the Lords and gentlemen who had been summoned to Damme, were all present there before the tribunal as witnesses.

Then the bailiff spoke as follows:

“The girl Nele here, who is protecting her mother Kathelinewith such great and brave affection, has found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday dress a letter signed by Joos Damman. And I myself, when I was inspecting the dead body of Hilbert Ryvish, which was dug up in the field near Katheline’s cottage, found thereon a second letter, addressed to him and signed by the said Joos Damman, the accused now present before you. Is it your pleasure that these letters be now read to you?”

“Read them, read them!” cried the crowd. “Nele is a brave girl! Read the letters! Katheline is no witch!”

And the clerk of the court read out as follows:

“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”

“To Hilbert, son of William Ryvish, knight, Joos Damman, knight, Greeting.

“Most excellent friend, let me advise you to lose no more of your money in gambling, dicing, and other foolishness of that kind. I will tell you a way of making money safe and sound. My plan is that we should disguise ourselves as devils, such as are beloved by women and girls, and then choose out for ourselves all the pretty ones, leaving alone all such as are ugly or poor; for we will make them pay for their pleasure. Do you know that when I was in Germany I acquired by this means as much as five thousandrixdaelders, and all within the space of six months? For a woman will give her last denier to the man she loves. When, therefore, such an one is willing to receive you in the night, the thing is to announce your coming by crying like a night-bird, so it may seem that you are really and truly a devil; and if you want to make your countenance appear devilish you must rub it all over with phosphorus, for phosphorus burns when it is damp, and the smell of it is horrible; and the women mistake it for the odour of hell itself. And if anything gets in your way, be it man, woman, or beast, kill it.

“Before long we will go together to one Katheline, a handsome woman I know. And she has a daughter—a childof mine forsooth, if indeed Katheline has proved faithful to me. And she is a right comely lass, and I give her to you, for these bastards are nothing to me. And you must know that I have already had from the mother a sum of three and twenty caroluses. This money all belonged to her. But somewhere, unless I am a dunce, she keeps secreted the fortune of Claes, that heretic, you remember, who was burned alive at Damme—seven hundred caroluses in all, and liable to confiscation. But the good King Philip, who has burned so many of his subjects for the sake of their inheritance, cannot lay his claw upon this, and assuredly it will weigh heavier in my purse than ever it would in his. Katheline will tell me where it is hidden, and we will share it between us. Fortune favours the young, as His Sacred Majesty Charles V was never tired of saying, and he was a past master in all the arts of love and war.”

Here the clerk of the court stopped reading and said:

“Such is the letter, and it is signed Joos Damman.”

And the people cried out:

“To the death with the murderer! To the death with the sorcerer!”

But the bailiff ordered them to keep silence so that judgment might be passed on the prisoners with every form of freedom and legality. After that he addressed himself again to the aldermen.

“Now I will read to you the second letter, which is the letter Nele found sewn into the pocket of Katheline’s Sunday gown. These are the terms of it:

“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,“Hanske.”

“Sweet witch, here is the recipe of a mixture which was sent to me by the wife of Lucifer himself. By the aid of this mixture it is possible to be transported to the sun, the moon, and the stars, and you can hold converse with the elemental spirits who carry the prayers of men to God, and can traversethe cities, towns, rivers, and fields of all the world. Mix equal parts of the following: stramonium, solanum, somniferum, henbane, opium, fresh ends of hemp, belladonna, and thorn-apple. Then drink. If it is your wish we will go this very night to the Sabbath of the Spirits. But you must love me more, and not be cold to me like you were the other night, refusing to give me even ten florins, and denying that you had got them! For I know very well you have a treasure in your hiding but will not tell me where. Do you not love me any more, my sweetheart?—Your cold devil,

“Hanske.”

“To death with the sorcerer!” cried the crowd.

The bailiff said:

“Let the two handwritings be compared.”

When this had been done, and when it had been found that they were in all respects similar, the bailiff said:

“After these proofs, Messire Joos Damman is found to be a sorcerer, a murderer, a seducer of women, a robber of the property of the King, and as such he must be accounted guilty of high treason against God and man.”

And the bailiff and the aldermen gave judgment on Joos Damman, and he was condemned to be degraded from the rank of a nobleman, and to be burned alive in the slower fire till death supervened. And he underwent this punishment on the following day in front of the Town Hall. And all the time he kept on crying: “Let the witch perish, it is she and she alone who is guilty! Cursed be God! My father will avenge me!”

And the people said: “Behold how he curses and blasphemes. He is dying the death of a dog.”

On the next day, the bailiff and the aldermen gave sentence upon Katheline. She was condemned to undergo the trial by water in the Bruges Canal. If she floated she would be burned for a witch. If she sank and was drownedshe would be considered to have died the death of a Christian and would be buried in the churchyard.

So on the morrow Katheline was conducted to the canal-bank, holding a candle in her hand and walking barefoot in a shift of black linen. Along by the trees went the long procession. In front was the Dean of Notre Dame, chanting the prayers for the dead, and with him were his vicars, and the beadle carrying the cross. Behind came the bailiff of Damme, the aldermen, the clerks, the sergeants of the commune, the provost, the executioner and his two assistants. On the edge of the procession there followed a great crowd of women crying, and men mourning, in pity for Katheline, who herself walked like a lamb that allows itself to be led whither it knows not. And all the time she kept on crying:

Katheline led to the Trial by WaterKatheline led to the Trial by Water

Katheline led to the Trial by Water

“Put out the fire! My head is burning! Hans, where are you?”

In the midst of the women was Nele, who kept crying also:

“Let them throw me in with her!”

But the women did not suffer her to come near to Katheline.

A sharp wind came blowing in from the sea, and from the grey sky a fine hail fell dripping into the water of the canal. Now there was a boat moored by the side of the water, and this boat the executioner and his assistants commandeered in the name of His Royal Majesty. Then Katheline was ordered to step down into the boat. She obeyed at once, and the executioner was seen standing by her side and holding her securely. Then the provost raised the rod of justice, and the executioner threw Katheline into the canal. For a while she struggled, but soon sank, with one last cry: “Hans! Hans! Help!”

And the people said: “This woman was no witch.”

Thereafter certain men who were there jumped into the canal and dragged Katheline out again, senseless and rigid as one dead. And she was taken into a tavern near by, andplaced in front of a bright fire. Nele took off her garments wringing wet as they were, meaning to put dry ones on her. After a while she regained consciousness, and cried out, all trembling and with her teeth chattering: “Hans! Give me a cloak of wool!”

But Katheline could not be warmed. And on the third day she died. And she was buried in the garden of the church.

And Nele, the orphan, went away into Holland, and dwelt at the house of Rosa van Auweghem.

XXXIIIn those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them—save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.And Ulenspiegel said:“Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?”An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:“The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up—let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!”“But,” answered Ulenspiegel, “we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.”Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. “And he is master here,” they added. “It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!”“A soldier’s word is a word of gold,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, parole d’or.Why should we ever break our word?”“No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,” they told him. “Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?”“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.“They will be hanged,” said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.“Not as long as I am alive,” said Ulenspiegel.“My son,” said Lamme, “you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful.”“I shall tell him the truth,” answered Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“If you think that you can save them,” said Marin, “I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.”“I will,” said Ulenspiegel.The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: “This man is a traitor.” Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:“O Rochus,” he said, “are they taking us to the gallows-field?” Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: “O city of Gorcum,” he cried, stretching out his hands, “O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!”“Cursed and accursed indeed!” answered Ulenspiegel. “As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!”The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.“Welcome,” said he, “Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!”One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:“Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection.”“He has well spoken,” said Ulenspiegel. “For having broken with the world—that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart—a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold—parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“And who are you?” asked Messire de Lumey.“My Lord,” replied Ulenspiegel, “a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one—and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep thepromise which was made to these men by the captain:parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.“My Lord,” said they, “this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.”Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:“Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them.”“I am not afraid,” replied Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered “all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.”The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.“Where are the originals?” inquired de Lumey.“My master has them,” said the messenger.“And the churl sends me the copy!” said de Lumey. “Where is your passport?”“Here, my Lord,” said the messenger.Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:“My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....” etc.De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.“Sang de Dieu!” he cried. “What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself ‘My Lord’ forsooth, and ‘Master,’ and sends to me his ‘orders’! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don’t get out at once.”And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.“Bring me to drink,” he cried. “Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?”And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.Ulenspiegel was brought before him.“Well?” he said. “What news of your friends the monks?”“They have been hanged,” said Ulenspiegel. “And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.“So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!”“Shame on you,” cried Ulenspiegel. “Shame on us all!Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Silence, Iron-pate!” said Messire de Lumey.“Shame on you again!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!”At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.“Strike,” said Ulenspiegel. “I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:“Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.”Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.“Let him ask my pardon then,” he said.But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.“Never,” he said.“At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,” cried de Lumey, growing angry again.Ulenspiegel answered:“I will lick no man’s boots.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Tell them to put up the gallows,” said de Lumey, “and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.”“Yes,” said Ulenspiegel, “and I will cry out there in front of all the people,Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”The gallows was set up in the market square, and the newsspread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.Très-Long said:“My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.”And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: “Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!”“The Iron-pate has defied me,” said de Lumey. “Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right.”“Will you?” said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.“Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or,” Ulenspiegel answered.“Draw the cord,” said de Lumey.The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.“This man is mine,” she said. “I take him for my husband.”And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:“Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!”“What does this mean?” demanded Messire de Lumey.Très-Long answered:“You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows.”“God is on his side,” said de Lumey. “Unloose his fetters.”Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn’t know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.“I am Nele,” she answered him, “the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him.”“You have done well,” said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.“Young Fleming,” he said, “when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?”“Yes, sir,” answered Ulenspiegel.“But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?”Nele answered:“If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.”“Very well,” said Très-Long.And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: “We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!”And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered,and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:“Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it’s you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!”“They have killed her,” she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:“Alas! my wife, where are you?”And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.And Nele’s head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:“Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!”She kissed him on the mouth, saying:“Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.”“I will make for you a soldier’s habit,” said Ulenspiegel.“Now? At once?”“At once,” he told her. “But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter.”

XXXII

In those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them—save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.And Ulenspiegel said:“Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?”An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:“The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up—let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!”“But,” answered Ulenspiegel, “we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.”Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. “And he is master here,” they added. “It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!”“A soldier’s word is a word of gold,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, parole d’or.Why should we ever break our word?”“No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,” they told him. “Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?”“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.“They will be hanged,” said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.“Not as long as I am alive,” said Ulenspiegel.“My son,” said Lamme, “you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful.”“I shall tell him the truth,” answered Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“If you think that you can save them,” said Marin, “I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.”“I will,” said Ulenspiegel.The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: “This man is a traitor.” Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:“O Rochus,” he said, “are they taking us to the gallows-field?” Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: “O city of Gorcum,” he cried, stretching out his hands, “O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!”“Cursed and accursed indeed!” answered Ulenspiegel. “As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!”The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.“Welcome,” said he, “Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!”One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:“Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection.”“He has well spoken,” said Ulenspiegel. “For having broken with the world—that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart—a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold—parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”“And who are you?” asked Messire de Lumey.“My Lord,” replied Ulenspiegel, “a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one—and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep thepromise which was made to these men by the captain:parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.“My Lord,” said they, “this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.”Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:“Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them.”“I am not afraid,” replied Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered “all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.”The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.“Where are the originals?” inquired de Lumey.“My master has them,” said the messenger.“And the churl sends me the copy!” said de Lumey. “Where is your passport?”“Here, my Lord,” said the messenger.Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:“My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....” etc.De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.“Sang de Dieu!” he cried. “What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself ‘My Lord’ forsooth, and ‘Master,’ and sends to me his ‘orders’! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don’t get out at once.”And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.“Bring me to drink,” he cried. “Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?”And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.Ulenspiegel was brought before him.“Well?” he said. “What news of your friends the monks?”“They have been hanged,” said Ulenspiegel. “And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.“So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!”“Shame on you,” cried Ulenspiegel. “Shame on us all!Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Silence, Iron-pate!” said Messire de Lumey.“Shame on you again!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!”At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.“Strike,” said Ulenspiegel. “I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:“Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.”Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.“Let him ask my pardon then,” he said.But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.“Never,” he said.“At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,” cried de Lumey, growing angry again.Ulenspiegel answered:“I will lick no man’s boots.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”“Tell them to put up the gallows,” said de Lumey, “and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.”“Yes,” said Ulenspiegel, “and I will cry out there in front of all the people,Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”The gallows was set up in the market square, and the newsspread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.Très-Long said:“My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.”And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: “Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!”“The Iron-pate has defied me,” said de Lumey. “Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right.”“Will you?” said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.“Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or,” Ulenspiegel answered.“Draw the cord,” said de Lumey.The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.“This man is mine,” she said. “I take him for my husband.”And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:“Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!”“What does this mean?” demanded Messire de Lumey.Très-Long answered:“You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows.”“God is on his side,” said de Lumey. “Unloose his fetters.”Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn’t know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.“I am Nele,” she answered him, “the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him.”“You have done well,” said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.“Young Fleming,” he said, “when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?”“Yes, sir,” answered Ulenspiegel.“But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?”Nele answered:“If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.”“Very well,” said Très-Long.And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: “We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!”And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered,and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:“Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it’s you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!”“They have killed her,” she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:“Alas! my wife, where are you?”And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.And Nele’s head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:“Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!”She kissed him on the mouth, saying:“Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.”“I will make for you a soldier’s habit,” said Ulenspiegel.“Now? At once?”“At once,” he told her. “But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter.”

In those days it was that the Beggarmen, among whom were Lamme and Ulenspiegel, took the city of Gorcum by storm. And they were led in this enterprise by one Captain Marin. This Marin had once been a workman on the dikes, but now he bore himself with great haughtiness and effrontery, and he signed an agreement with Gaspard Turc, the defender of Gorcum, by which it was agreed that the city should capitulate on condition that Turc himself, together with the monks, citizens, and soldiers who had been shut up in the citadel, should be allowed to pass out freely, their muskets on their shoulders and with anything that they could carry with them—save only what belonged to the churches, which was to remain in the hands of the victors. But in spite of this agreement, Captain Marin, acting under an order from Messire de Lumey, detained nineteen monks as his prisoners, while the rest of the citizens were allowed to go free as had been promised.

And Ulenspiegel said:

“Word of a soldier, word of gold. Why has the captain been false to his promise?”

An old Beggarman answered Ulenspiegel:

“The monks are the sons of Satan, the canker of our nation, the shame of our country. Dogs are chained up—let the monks be also chained, for they are the bloodhounds of the Duke. Long live the Beggarmen!”

“But,” answered Ulenspiegel, “we must remember that my Lord of Orange, the Prince of Liberty, has ordered us to respect the property and the free conscience of all such as give themselves up into our power.”

Some of the older Beggarmen replied that the admiral could not do so in the case of the monks. “And he is master here,” they added. “It was he that took La Brièle. To prison with the monks!”

“A soldier’s word is a word of gold,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, parole d’or.Why should we ever break our word?”

“No longer do the ashes beat upon your heart,” they told him. “Hear you not the souls of the dead that cry for vengeance?”

“The ashes beat upon my heart,” said Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”

The next day a message arrived from Messire de Lumey to the effect that the nineteen monks were to be brought as prisoners from Gorcum to La Brièle where the admiral was then stationed.

“They will be hanged,” said Captain Marin to Ulenspiegel.

“Not as long as I am alive,” said Ulenspiegel.

“My son,” said Lamme, “you must not speak in this way to Messire de Lumey. He is a stern man, and will have you hanged as well as the monks if you are not careful.”

“I shall tell him the truth,” answered Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”

“If you think that you can save them,” said Marin, “I will give you permission to go with them by ship to La Brièle. Take Rochus with you as pilot, and your friend Lamme if you please as well.”

“I will,” said Ulenspiegel.

The ship was moored by the quay side, and the nineteen monks were taken aboard. Rochus took charge of the helm, while Ulenspiegel and Lamme placed themselves at the bow. Certain vagabond soldiers who had joined the Beggarmen for the sake of plunder were stationed by the monks, who now began to wax hungry. Ulenspiegel gave them food and drink. Then the sailors began to murmur one to another, saying: “This man is a traitor.” Meanwhile the nineteen monks were seated sanctimoniously in the midst, and they were shivering although the month was July and the sun was shining hot and clear, and a gentle breeze filled the sails of the ship as it glided, heavy and full-bellied, over the green waves.

Father Nicholas then began to speak, addressing himself to the pilot:

“O Rochus,” he said, “are they taking us to the gallows-field?” Then, turning his face towards Gorcum: “O city of Gorcum,” he cried, stretching out his hands, “O city of Gorcum, how many evils hast thou still to suffer! Verily thou shalt be cursed among all the cities of the earth, for thou hast nurtured within thy walls the seed of heresy! O city of Gorcum! For now no longer shall the angel of the Lord stand watch above thy gates, no longer shall he have any care for the modesty of thy virgins, or the courage of thy men, or for the fortunes of thy merchants! O city of Gorcum, accursed thou art and doomed to misfortune!”

“Cursed and accursed indeed!” answered Ulenspiegel. “As accursed as is the comb that has combed away the lice of Spain, or accursed as the dog that has broken the chain that held him captive, or as the proud charger that has thrown from his back the cruel cavalier! Be cursed yourself, silly preacher that you are, who think it an evil thing to break the rod upon the back of a tyrant, even if it be a rod of iron!”

The monk was silenced, and dropping his eyes he seemed lost in a dream of hate and bigotry.

The next morning they arrived at La Brièle, and a messenger was sent to advise Messire de Lumey of their coming.

As soon as he had received the news he set out to go to them on horseback, half dressed as he was, and with him went a company of armed men, some on foot and some on horseback. And now once again was it given to Ulenspiegel to behold this fierce admiral dressed as he was like some noble, proud and opulent.

“Welcome,” said he, “Sir Monks. And now hold up your hands and show me there the blood of my Lords of Egmont and Hoorn!”

One of the monks, whose name was Leonard, made answer:

“Do what you like with us. We are monks. No one will make any objection.”

“He has well spoken,” said Ulenspiegel. “For having broken with the world—that is with father, mother, brother and sister, wife and sweetheart—a monk finds no one at the hour of God to claim anything on his behalf. Nevertheless, your Excellency, I will do so. For Captain Marin, when he signed the treaty for the capitulation of Gorcum, stipulated that these monks should be free like all the others that were taken in the citadel and were allowed to go out from it. But in spite of this, and for no adequate reason, these monks were kept prisoner, and now it is reported that they are to be hanged. My Lord, I address myself to you right humbly on their behalf, for I know that the word of a soldier is a word of gold—parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”

“And who are you?” asked Messire de Lumey.

“My Lord,” replied Ulenspiegel, “a Fleming I am from the lovely land of Flanders, working man, nobleman, all in one—and I go wandering through the world, praising things beautiful and good but boldly making fun of foolishness. And verily I will sing your praises if you will keep thepromise which was made to these men by the captain:parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”

But the good-for-nothing Beggarmen who were on the ship cried out at this.

“My Lord,” said they, “this man is a traitor. He has promised them that he will save them, and he has been loading them with bread and ham and sausages. But to us he has given nothing at all.”

Then Messire de Lumey said to Ulenspiegel:

“Wandering Fleming that you are, and protector of monks, I tell you I will have you hanged with them.”

“I am not afraid,” replied Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat, c’est parole d’or.”

The monks were led away to a barn, and Ulenspiegel with them. There they tried to convert him with many theological arguments; but these soon sent him to sleep.

In the meanwhile Messire de Lumey was feasting at a table covered with meats and wines when a messenger arrived from Gorcum from Captain Marin, bringing with him copies of those letters of William the Silent, Prince of Orange, which ordered “all governors of cities and other places to confer the same privileges of safety and surety on ecclesiastics as on the rest of the people.”

The messenger asked to be brought into the presence of de Lumey so that he might put into his own hands the copies of these letters.

“Where are the originals?” inquired de Lumey.

“My master has them,” said the messenger.

“And the churl sends me the copy!” said de Lumey. “Where is your passport?”

“Here, my Lord,” said the messenger.

Then Messire de Lumey began to read it aloud:

“My Lord and Master Marin Brandt commands all ministers, governors, and officers of the Republic that they should allow to pass....” etc.

De Lumey struck the table with his fist, and tore the passport in two.

“Sang de Dieu!” he cried. “What is he doing meddling here, this Marin? This trumpery fellow who before the taking of La Brièle had not so much as the bone of a smoked herring to place between his teeth! He calls himself ‘My Lord’ forsooth, and ‘Master,’ and sends to me his ‘orders’! He commands and orders! You may tell your master that since he is so much of a Captain and so much of a My Lord, ordering and commanding so excellently well, the monks shall be hanged forthwith, and you with them if you don’t get out at once.”

And he gave the man a great kick and had him removed from the room.

“Bring me to drink,” he cried. “Have you ever seen anything to compare with the effrontery of this Marin? I could spit my food out, so angry I am. Let the monks be hanged immediately, and let the wandering Fleming be brought hither to me as soon as he has witnessed the execution. We will see if he still dares to tell me that I have done wrong. Blood of God! What are these pots and glasses doing here?”

And with a great noise he brake the bowls and dishes, and no one durst say anything to him. The servants would have cleared up the debris but he would not allow them, but went on drinking yet more; and growing more and more enraged he strode up and down the room, treading the broken pieces and stamping upon them furiously.

Ulenspiegel was brought before him.

“Well?” he said. “What news of your friends the monks?”

“They have been hanged,” said Ulenspiegel. “And those cowards of executioners, whose game it is to kill for profit, have cut one of them open to sell the fat to an apothecary. And now the word of a soldier is gold no more.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”

Then de Lumey stamped again upon the broken dishes.

“So you defy me, do you, you good-for-nothing beast! But you also shall be hanged, not in my barn forsooth, but in the open street, most ignominiously, where all can see you!”

“Shame on you,” cried Ulenspiegel. “Shame on us all!Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”

“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel

“Shame on you!” cried Ulenspiegel

“Silence, Iron-pate!” said Messire de Lumey.

“Shame on you again!” cried Ulenspiegel. “Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.You ought rather to be punishing those rascals that are merchants in human fat!”

At this Messire de Lumey rushed at Ulenspiegel and raised his hand to strike at him.

“Strike,” said Ulenspiegel. “I am in your hands. But I have no fear at all of you.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”

Messire de Lumey drew his sword, and would certainly have killed Ulenspiegel had not Messire Très-Long taken him by the arm, saying:

“Have mercy. He is a brave and valiant man and has committed no crime.”

Then de Lumey thought better of the matter.

“Let him ask my pardon then,” he said.

But Ulenspiegel stood his ground.

“Never,” he said.

“At least he must admit that I was not in the wrong,” cried de Lumey, growing angry again.

Ulenspiegel answered:

“I will lick no man’s boots.Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”

“Tell them to put up the gallows,” said de Lumey, “and let this man be taken where he may hear the way a halter speaks.”

“Yes,” said Ulenspiegel, “and I will cry out there in front of all the people,Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or.”

The gallows was set up in the market square, and the newsspread swiftly through the city how Ulenspiegel, the brave Beggarman, was going to be hanged. And the populace was moved with pity and compassion, and a great crowd collected in the market square. And Messire de Lumey came there also, being desirous himself to give the signal for the execution.

He regarded Ulenspiegel without pity as he stood upon the scaffold, dressed to meet his death in a single garment with his arms bound to his sides, his hands clasped together, the cord round his neck, and the executioner ready to do the deed.

Très-Long said:

“My Lord, pardon him now; he is no traitor, and no one has ever heard of a man being hanged simply because he was sincere and pitiful.”

And the men and women in the crowd, hearing Très-Long speak in this wise, cried out also: “Have pity, my Lord! Mercy and pardon for Ulenspiegel!”

“The Iron-pate has defied me,” said de Lumey. “Let him admit he was wrong and that I was in the right.”

“Will you?” said Très-Long to Ulenspiegel.

“Parole de soldat n’est plus parole d’or,” Ulenspiegel answered.

“Draw the cord,” said de Lumey.

The executioner was about to obey when a young maid, dressed all in white and with a wreath of flowers round her head, ran up the steps of the scaffold like one mad, and threw herself on the neck of Ulenspiegel.

“This man is mine,” she said. “I take him for my husband.”

And the people broke into applause, and the women cried aloud:

“Long live the maid, long live the maid that has saved the life of Ulenspiegel!”

“What does this mean?” demanded Messire de Lumey.

Très-Long answered:

“You must know that by the legal usages and customs of our city any young maid or unmarried girl has the right to save a man from hanging, provided that she be willing to take him for her husband at the foot of the gallows.”

“God is on his side,” said de Lumey. “Unloose his fetters.”

Then riding up close to the scaffold he saw how the executioner was endeavouring to prevent the maid from severing the cords which bound Ulenspiegel, telling her at the same time that he didn’t know who would pay the price of the cords if she cut them. But the damsel did not appear even to hear him. Seeing her so hasty in her love and so cunning withal, the heart of de Lumey was softened within him, and he asked the maid who she might be.

“I am Nele,” she answered him, “the betrothed of Ulenspiegel, and I am come from Flanders to seek him.”

“You have done well,” said de Lumey in a disdainful tone. And he went away.

Then Très-Long approached the scaffold.

“Young Fleming,” he said, “when once you are married, will you still serve as a soldier in our ships?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Ulenspiegel.

“But you, my girl, what will you do without your husband?”

Nele answered:

“If you will allow me, sir, I am fain to become a piper in his ship.”

“Very well,” said Très-Long.

And he gave her two florins for the wedding feast. And Lamme cried for joy and laughed at the same time, and he gave her three other florins, saying: “We will eat them all. And I will pay. Let us to the sign of the Golden Comb. He is not dead, my friend. Long live the Beggarmen!”

And the people shouted assent, and they repaired to the tavern of the Golden Comb, where a great feast was ordered,and from an upper window Lamme threw down pennies to the people in the street below.

And Ulenspiegel said to Nele:

“Sweetest and best beloved, here we are together once again! Noel! For she is here, flesh, heart, and soul of my sweet love. Oh, her soft eyes and her red and lovely lips that can speak naught but words of kindness! She has saved my life, my tender lover! And now it’s you and only you that shall play upon our ship the fife of deliverance! Do you remember ... but no.... This is our hour of joy, and all for me is now this face, sweet as June flowers. I am in Paradise. But why, tell me.... You are crying!”

“They have killed her,” she said. And then Nele told him all the sad story of the death of Katheline. And gazing one at the other they wept for love and for sorrow.

But at the feast they ate and drank, and Lamme as he looked upon them grieved within himself, saying:

“Alas! my wife, where are you?”

And the priest came and married Nele and Ulenspiegel.

And the morning found them side by side in their bed of marriage.

And Nele’s head was resting on the shoulder of Ulenspiegel. And when the sun had awakened her he said:

“Fresh face, soft heart, we two will be the avengers of the land of Flanders!”

She kissed him on the mouth, saying:

“Wild head, strong arms, God bless my fife and your sword.”

“I will make for you a soldier’s habit,” said Ulenspiegel.

“Now? At once?”

“At once,” he told her. “But who was that man who said that strawberries were sweet in the early morning? Your lips are far, far sweeter.”

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