The Legend of Ulenspiegel. Volume 2 of 2

“Whither goest thou?” said Ulenspiegel. “No man may go from the ship.”

“My son,” said Lamme, “thou art captain and master as now. I will never go from the ship if thou dost forbid it. Yet deign to consider that we ate the last of our sausage on the day before yesterday: and that in this stern weather the fire of the kitchen is the sun of good companions. Who would not fain smell here the odour of sauces; sniff up the fragrant bouquet of the divine drink made of those joyous blossoms that are gaiety, laughter, and good will to every man? And so, captain and trusty friend, I dare say this: I devour my very soul, since I eat naught, I who, though loving but repose, never slaying by my will, save it were a tender goose, a fat chicken, a succulent turkey, follow thee amid fatigue and battles. See from here the lights in that rich farm well furnished of big and little cattle. Knowest thou who it is that dwelleth there? It is the boatman of Frisia, that betrayed Messire Dandelot and furthermore brought to Enckhuyse, while it was still in D’Alba’s hand, eighteen poor lords our friends, the which, of his doing, were beheaded on the Horse Market at Brussels. This traitor, who hath to name Slosse, got from the duke two thousand florins for his treachery. With the price of that blood, a very Judas, he purchased the farm thou seest there, and his great cattle and the fields around about, which bearing fruit and increasing, I mean land and herds, make him rich as now.”

Ulenspiegel replied:

“The ashes beat upon my heart. Thou makest the hour of God to strike.”

“And,” said Lamme, “the hour of food in like wise. Give me twenty lads, valiant soldiers and sailors; I will go and seek out the traitor.”

“I will be their leader,” said Ulenspiegel. “Who loves justice let him follow me. Not all of you, dear friends and trusty; there must be twenty only, else who would keep the ship? Draw lots by the dice. Ye are twenty, come. The dice speak well. Put your skates on your feet and glide towards the star of Venus burning bright above the treachour’s farm.

“Guiding yourselves by the clear beam, come, ye twenty, skating and sliding, axe on shoulder.

“The wind whistles and drives white whirls of snow before it on the ice. Come, brave men!

“Ye sing not, nor speak; ye go straight on, in silence, towards the star; your skates make the ice complain.

“He that falls picks himself up at once. We touch the shore; no human shape on the white snow, not a bird in the icy air. Take off the skates from your feet.

“Here we are on land; here are the meadows; put on your skates again. We are round about the farm, holding our breath.”

Ulenspiegel knocks on the door; dogs bark. He knocks again, a window opens and the baes says, sticking out his head:

“Who art thou?”

He sees but Ulenspiegel only: the others are concealed behind the keet, which is the washhouse.

Ulenspiegel makes answer:

“Messire de Boussu bids thee betake thee to him at Amsterdam upon the instant.”

“Where is thy safe-conduct?” said the man, coming down and opening the door to him.

“Here,” replied Ulenspiegel, showing him the twenty Beggars who hurl themselves behind him into the opening.

Ulenspiegel then says to him:

“Thou art Slosse, the traitor boatman that brought into an ambuscade Messires Dandelot, de Battenberg, and other lords. Where is the price of their blood?”

The farmer replies, trembling:

“Ye are the Beggars; grant me a pardon; I knew not what I did. I have no money here within; I will give all I have.”

Lamme said:

“It is black dark; give us candles of tallow or of wax.”

The baes replies:

“The tallow candles are hanging there.”

A candle being lit, said one of the Beggars, in the hearthplace:

“It is cold; let us kindle a fire. Here are proper faggots.”

And he pointed out upon a shelf flower pots in which withered and dried plants might be seen.

He took one by the stalk and shaking it with the pot, the pot fell, scattering over the ground ducats, florins, and reals.

“There is the treasure,” said he, pointing to the other flower pots.

In very deed, having emptied them, they found ten thousand florins.

Seeing which, the baes cried out and wept.

The farm servants, both men and maids, came to the cries, in shirts and smocks. The men wishing to avenge their master, were bound. Soon the shamefaced women, and especially the younger, hid behind the men.

Then Lamme went forward and said:

“Traitor farmer, where are the keys of the cellar, the stables, the cowshed, and the sheep-pens?”

“Infamous pillagers,” said the baes, “ye shall be hanged until ye are dead.”

Ulenspiegel replied:

“It is the hour of God; give up the keys!”

“God will avenge me,” said the baes, handing them over to him.

Having emptied the farm, the Beggars departed skating towards the ships, those light dwelling places of freedom.

“Master cook am I,” said Lamme, guiding them; “Master cook am I. Push along the gallant sledges laden with wines and beer; drive on before you, by their horns, or by anything, horses, oxen, swine, sheep, and flocks singing their native songs. The pigeons coo in the baskets; the capons, stuffed with crumb, are astonied in their wooden cages wherein they cannot budge. I am master cook. The ice cries out beneath the steel of the skates. We are at the ships. To-morrow there will be kitchen music. Let down the pulleys; put girths on the horses, cows, and oxen. ’Tis a noble sight to see them thus pendent by their bellies; to-morrow we shall be hanging by the tongue to fat fricassees. The crane hoists them up into the ship. These be carbonadoes. Throw me them pell mell into the hold, hens, geese, ducks, capons. Who will wring their necks? The master cook. The door is locked, I have the key in my satchel. Praised be God in the kitchen! Long live the Beggar!”

Then Ulenspiegel went on board the admiral’s ship taking with him Dierick Slosse and the other prisoners, moaning and weeping for terror of the rope.

Messire Worst came at the noise: perceiving Ulenspiegel – his companions lit up by the red glare of the torches:

“What would you of us?” said he.

Ulenspiegel replied:

“This night we took, in his farm, the traitor Dierick Slosse, that brought the eighteen into an ambuscade. This is the man. The others are innocent menservants and maidservants. Then handing him a satchel:

“These florins,” said he, “were flourishing in flower pots in the traitor’s house: there are ten thousand.”

Messire Worst said to them:

“Ye did ill to leave your ship; but because of your good success pardon shall be granted to you. Welcome be the prisoners and the satchel of florins, and ye, gallant men, to whom I assign, after the laws and customs of the sea, a third of the prize: the second will be for the fleet, and another third for Monseigneur d’Orange; string me up the traitor incontinent.”

The Beggars having obeyed, they opened afterward a hole in the ice and threw the body of Dierick Slosse into it.

Messire Worst then said:

“Has grass sprung up around the ships that I hear hens cackling, sheep bleating, cows and oxen lowing?”

“These are the prisoners of our teeth,” answered Ulenspiegel; “they will pay ransom of fricassees. Messire Admiral shall have the choicest.”

“As for these folk, the knaves and the maidservants, among whom are sprightly and pretty women, I will fetch them back aboard my ship.”

Having done so, he addressed them as follows:

“Goodfellows and goodwives, ye are here upon the best ship in the world. Here we pass our time in jollity, feast, and revel without end. If it please you to depart herefrom, pay ransom; if it please you to stay here, ye shall live like us, toiling hard and eating well. As for these dear women, I accord them, with the admiral’s sanction, full freedom of their persons, giving them to know that it is all one to me whether they are fain to keep to their lovers that came upon the ship with them or to make their choice of some stout Beggar here present in order to bear him conjugal company.”

But the fair women were all faithful to their lovers, save only one, who, smiling and looking upon Lamme, asked him if he would have her.

“All thanks, dear one,” said he, “but I am otherwise bound.”

“He is married, poor fellow,” said the Beggars, seeing the girl vexed.

But she, turning her back on Lamme, chose another who like him had a good round belly and a good round face.

That day and the following days there were great revels and feastings on board with wines, fowl, and meats. And Ulenspiegel said:

“Long live the Beggar! Blow, sharp wintry winds, we will warm the air with our hot breath. Our heart is afire for freedom of conscience; our stomachs on fire for the enemy’s meats. Drink we wine, the milk of men. Long live the Beggar!”

Nele, too, drank from a great golden tankard, and ruddy in the breath of the wind, played the shrill fife. And for all the cold, the Beggars ate and drank rejoicing on the deck.

XVIII

Suddenly the whole fleet perceived upon the bank a black troop among which torches shone and the gleaming of arms; then the torches were put out, and a great darkness reigned.

The admiral’s orders being sent round, the alarm was given on the ships, and all fires were quenched; sailors and soldiers lay flat on the decks, armed with axes. The gallant gunners, linstock in hand, watched by the guns loaded with bags of bullets and with chain shot. As soon as the admiral and the captains should call out “A hundred paces!” – which denoted the enemy’s distance, they were to fire from the bows, the poop, or the broadside, according to their position in the ice.

And Messire Worst’s voice was heard saying:

“Death to whoever speaks aloud!”

And the captains said after him:

“Death to whoever speaks aloud!”

The night was moonless, filled with stars.

“Dost thou hear?” said Ulenspiegel to Lamme, in a voice like a whispering ghost. “Hearest thou the voices of the Amsterdammers, and the steel of their skates ringing over the ice? They come swiftly. We can hear them speak. They are saying ‘The lazy Beggars are asleep. Ours is the Lisbon treasure!’ They are lighting torches. Seest thou their ladders for the assault, their ugly faces, and the long line of their band deployed for the attack? There are a thousand of them, and more.”

“A hundred paces!” cried Messire Worst.

“A hundred paces!” cried the captains all.

And there was a great noise like thunder, and lamentable outcries upon the ice.

“Eighty guns are thundering all together!” said Ulenspiegel. “They are fleeing! Seest thou the torches vanishing away?”

“Pursue them!” said Admiral Worst.

“Pursue them!” said the captains.

But the pursuit did not last long, the fugitives having a start of a hundred paces, and the legs of frightened hares.

And on the men that were crying out and dying on the ice were found gold, jewels, and ropes for the Beggars.

And after this victory the Beggars said one to another: “Als God met ons is, wie tegen ons zal zijn. If God is with us, who shall be against us? Long live the Beggar!”

Now on the morning of the third day thereafter Messire Worst was uneasy, and looked for a fresh attack. Lamme leaped upon the deck and said to Ulenspiegel:

“Fetch me to this admiral that would not listen to you when you prophesied a frost.”

“Go without any fetching you?” said Ulenspiegel.

Lamme departed, first locking the door of his galley. The admiral was on deck, straining his eyes to see if he did not perceive some movement from the city.

Lamme came up to him.

“Monseigneur Admiral,” said he, “may a humble master cook give you a rede?”

“Speak, my son,” said the admiral.

“Monseigneur,” said Lamme, “the water is thawing in the jugs; the fowl grow soft again; the sausage is laying aside its mildew of hoar frost; the butter becomes unctuous, the oil liquid; the salt is weeping. It will rain before long, and we shall be saved, Monseigneur.”

“Who art thou?” asked Messire Worst.

“I am Lamme Goedzak,” he replied, “the master cook of the ship La Briele. And if all those great savants that boast themselves astronomers read in the stars as true as I read in my sauces, they could tell us that to-night there will be a thaw with a great hubbub of storm and hail: but the thaw will not last.”

And Lamme went back to Ulenspiegel, to whom he said, towards noon:

“I am a prophet already; the sky grows black, the wind breathes stormily: a warm rain is falling; already there is a foot of water upon the ice.”

At night he cried, rejoicing:

“The North Sea is swollen: ’tis the hour of the flood tide; the high waves rolling into the Zuyderzee break up the ice, which splinters in great fragments and leaps up on the ships; it flashes sparkles of light; here comes the hail. The admiral bids us to withdraw from before Amsterdam, and that with as much water as our greatest ship can draw. Here we are in the harbour of Enckhuyse. The sea is freezing afresh. I am a fine prophet, and it is a miracle from God.”

And Ulenspiegel said:

“Drink we to Him, and blessings on Him.”

And the winter passed, and summer came.

XIX

In mid-August, when hens, fed full with grain, remain deaf to the call of the cock trumpeting his loves, Ulenspiegel said to his sailors and soldiers:

“The duke of blood, being at Utrecht, dares there to issue a blessed edict, promising among other gracious gifts, hunger, death, ruin to the inhabitants of the Low Countries who might be unwilling to submit. Everything that still remains whole, saith he, shall be exterminate, and His Majesty the king will people the country with strangers. Bite, duke, bite! The file breaketh the viper’s tooth; we are files. Long live the Beggar!

“Alba, blood maketh thee drunk! Deemest thou that we would fear thy threats or believe in thy clemency? Thy famous regiments whose praises thou didst sing throughout the whole world, thy Invincibles, thy Tels Quels, thy Immortals, remained seven months bombarding Haarlem, a feeble city defended by mere citizens; like mortal common men they danced in air the dance of the bursting mines. Mere citizens besmeared them with tar; in the end they were glorious victors, slaughtering the disarmed. Hearest thou, murderer, the hour of God that striketh now?

“Haarlem hath lost her splendid defenders, her stones sweat blood. She hath lost and expended in her siege twelve hundred and eighty thousand florins. The bishop is reinstated there; with light hand and joyful countenance he blesses the churches; Don Frederick is present at these consecrations; the bishop washes for him those hands that in God’s eyes are red and he communicates in two kinds, which is not permitted to the poor common herd. And the bells ring out and the chime flings into the air its calm, harmonious notes; it is like the singing of angels over a cemetery. An eye for an eye! A tooth for a tooth! Long live the Beggar!”

XX

The Beggars were then at Flushing, where Nele caught fever. Forced to leave the ship, she was lodged at the house of one Peeters, of the Reformed faith, at Turven-Key.

Ulenspiegel, deeply grieving, was yet rejoiced, thinking that in this bed where she would doubtless be healed the Spanish bullets could not reach her.

And with Lamme he was always beside her, tending her well and loving her better. And there they used to talk together.

“Friend and true comrade,” said Ulenspiegel one day, “dost thou not know the news?”

“Nay, my son,” said Lamme.

“Seest thou the flyboat that but late came to join our fleet, and knowest thou who it is upon it that twangs the viol every day?”

“Through the late colds,” said Lamme, “I am as one deaf in both ears. Why dost thou laugh, my son?”

But Ulenspiegel, continuing:

“Once,” he said, “I heard her sing a Flemish lied and found her voice was sweet.”

“Alas,” said Lamme, “she, too, sang and played upon the viol.”

“Dost thou know the other news?” went on Ulenspiegel.

“I know naught of it, my son,” said Lamme.

Ulenspiegel made answer:

“We have our orders to drop down the Scheldt with our ships as far as Antwerp, to find there the enemy ships to take or burn. As for the men, no quarter. What thinkest thou of this, big paunch?”

“Alas!” said Lamme, “shall we never hear aught else in this distressful land save burnings, hangings, drownings, and other ways of exterminating poor men? When then will blessed peace come, that we can in quiet roast partridges, fricassee chickens, and make the puddings sing in the pan among the eggs? I like the black ones best; the white are too rich.”

“This sweet time will come,” replied Ulenspiegel, “when in the orchards of Flanders we see on apple, plum, pear trees and cherry trees, a Spaniard hanged on every bough.”

“Ah!” said Lamme, “if only I could find my wife again, my so dear, so sweet, beloved soft darling faithful wife! For know it well, my son, cuckold I was not nor shall ever be; she was too sober and calm in her ways for that; she eschewed the company of other men; if she loved fair and fine array, it was but for woman’s need. I was her cook, her kitchenman, her scullion, I am glad to say it, why am I it not once more? but I was her master as well and her husband.”

“Let us end this talk,” said Ulenspiegel. “Hearest thou the admiral calling: ‘Up anchors!’ and captains after him calling the same? We must needs weigh soon.”

“Why dost thou go so quickly?” said Nele to Ulenspiegel.

“We are going to the ships,” said he.

“Without me?” she said.

“Aye,” said Ulenspiegel.

“Dost thou not think,” said she, “how lying here I shall be distressed for thee?”

“Dearest,” said Ulenspiegel, “my skin is made of iron.”

“Thou art mocking,” said she. “I see nothing on thee but thy doublet, which is cloth, not iron; beneath it is thy body, made of bone and flesh, like my own. If they wound thee, who will heal thee? Art thou to die all alone in the midst of the fighters? I shall go with thee.”

“Alas!” said he, “if the lances, balls, swords, axes, maces, sparing me, fall on thy dear body, what shall I do – I, good for naught without thee in this vile world?”

But Nele said:

“I would fain follow thee; there will be no peril; I will hide in the wooden forts where the arquebusiers are.”

“If thou dost go, I stay, and they will hold thy friend Ulenspiegel traitor and coward; but listen to my lay:

“My hair is steel, as casque set there;An armour forged by Nature’s handMy skin the first is buff well tanned,And steel the second skin I wear.“In vain to catch me in his snareDeath, grinning monster, takes his stand;My skin the first is buff well tanned,And steel the second skin I wear.“My standards ‘Live’ as motto bear,Live ever in a sunshine land:My skin the first is buff well tanned,And steel the second skin I wear.”

And he went off singing, not without having kissed the shaking mouth and the lovely eyes of Nele sunk in fever, smiling and weeping all together.

The Beggars are at Antwerp; they take the ships of Alba even in the very harbour. Entering the city, in broad day, they set free certain prisoners, and make others prisoner to bring ransom. By force they make the citizens rise, and some they constrain to follow them, on pain of death, without uttering a word.

Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:

“The admiral’s son is detained at the Écoutête’s: we must deliver him.”

Going into the house of the Écoutête, they see the son they sought in the company of a big monk with a noble belly, who was preaching wrathfully to him, fain to make him return to the bosom of our Mother Holy Church. But the lad would by no means consent thereto. He departed with Ulenspiegel. Meanwhile Lamme, seizing the monk by the cowl, made him walk before him in the streets of Antwerp, saying:

“Thou art worth a hundred florins ransom: pack up and march on. Why dost thou hang back? Hast thou lead in thy sandals? March, bag of lard, victual press, soup belly!”

“I march, Master Beggar, I march; but saving the respect due to your arquebuse, you are as big in the belly as myself, a paunchy, vasty fellow.”

Then Lamme, pushing him on:

“Dost thou dare indeed, foul monk,” said he, “to liken thy cloistral, useless, lazy grease to my Fleming fat honourably sustained and fed by toils, fatigues, and battles? Run, or I shall make thee go like a dog, and that with the spur at the end of my boot-sole.”

But the monk could not run, and he was all out of breath, and Lamme the same. And so they came to the ship.

XXI

Having taken Rammekens, Gertruydenberg, Alckmaer, the Beggars came back to Flushing.

Nele, now hale and cured, was waiting for Ulenspiegel at the harbour.

“Thyl,” said she, “my love, Thyl, art thou not wounded?”

Ulenspiegel sang:

“My standards ‘Live’ as motto bear,Live ever in a sunshine land;My skin the first is buff well tannedMy second skin is forged of steel.”

“Alas!” said Lamme, dragging a leg, “the bullets, grenades, chain shot rain around him; he feels but the wind of them. Thou art without doubt a spirit, Ulenspiegel, and thou, too, Nele, for I behold thee ever brisk and young.”

“Why dost thou drag thy leg?” asked Nele of Lamme.

“I am no spirit and never will be,” said he. “And so I took an axe stroke in the thigh – how round and white my wife’s was! – see, I am bleeding. Alas! why have I her not here to tend me!”

But Nele, angry, replied:

“What need hast thou of a wife forsworn?”

“Say naught ill of her,” replied Lamme.

“Here,” said Nele, “here is balsam; I was keeping it for Ulenspiegel; put it upon the wound.”

Lamme, having dressed his wound, was joyous, for the balsam put an end to the keen anguish; and they went up again to the ship all three.

Seeing the monk who was walking to and fro there with his hands bound:

“Who is that one?” she said. “I have seen him already and I think I know him.”

“He is worth a hundred florins ransom,” replied Lamme.

XXII

That day aboard the fleet there was a feast. In spite of the sharp December wind, despite the rain, despite the snow, all the Beggars of the fleet were on the decks of the ships. The silver crescents gleamed lurid upon the bonnets of Zealand.

And Ulenspiegel sang:

“Leyden is delivered: the bloody duke leaves the Low Countries:

Ring out, ye bells reëchoing: Chimes, fling your songs into the air: Clink, ye glasses and bottles, clink.

“When the mastiff slinks away from blows,His tail between his legs,With bloodshot eyeHe turns upon the cudgels.“And his torn jawShivers and pantsHe has gone, the bloody duke;Clink bottle and glass. Long live the Beggar!“Fain would he bite himself,The cudgels broke his teeth.Hanging his puff-jowled headHe thinks of the days of murder and lust.He is gone, the bloody duke:Then beat upon the drum of glory,Then beat upon the drum of war!Long live the Beggar!“He cries to the devil: ‘I will sell theeMy doggish soul for one hour of might.’‘Thy soul it is no more to me,’Said the devil, ‘than a herring is.’The teeth meet no longer now.They must avoid hard morsels.He hath gone, the bloody duke:Long live the Beggar!“The little street dogs, crooklegged, one-eyed, full of mange,That live or die on rubbish heaps.Heave up their leg one by oneOn him that killed for love of slaughter. —Long live the Beggar.“He loved not women, nor friends,Nor gayness, nor sun, nor his master,Nothing but Death, his betrothed,Who broke his legsAs prelude to the betrothal,For she loves not men hale and whole;Beat upon the drum of joy,Long live the Beggar!“And the little street dogs, crooklegged,Limping, one-eyed, full of mange,Heave their leg up once againIn a hot and salty fashion.And with them greyhounds and mastiffs,Dogs of Hungary, of Brabant,Of Namur and Luxembourg,Long live the Beggar!“And, miserably, with foaming mouth,He goes to die beside his master,Who fetches him a sounding kick,For not biting enough.“In hell he weddeth Death.She calleth him ‘My Duke’;He calleth her ‘My Inquisition.’Long live the Beggar!“Ring out ye bells reëchoing:Chimes, fling your songs into the air;Clink, glasses and bottles, clink:Long live the Beggar!”