Part 10

The neighbours, returning from the place of execution, came to the cottage and told how Claes had made an end of his sufferings.

"He is in glory," said the widow.

"Pray for him," said Nele, putting her rosary into the hands of Ulenspiegel. But he would make no use of it, giving as his reason that the beads had been blessed by the Pope.

At last night came, and Ulenspiegel urged his mother to go to bed, telling her that he himself would sit up and keep watch in the room. But Soetkin said that there was no need for him to do that. Let him sleep also, for the young have need of a good night's rest. So Nele prepared two beds for them in the kitchen, and after that she left them.

Mother and son stayed up together while what remained of the wood fire burned itself out in the grate. Then Soetkin retired to her bed, and Ulenspiegel did likewise, listening to his mother sobbing to herself under the bedclothes.

Outside in the silence of the night the wind made a murmuring sound in the trees by the canal. It was like the far-off sound of waves, and it meant that autumn was coming soon. Also, there were great eddies of dust that beat against the cottage windows.

Now it seemed to Ulenspiegel that he saw the figure of a man going to and fro in the room, and he thought he heard the sound of footsteps coming and going in the kitchen. But when he looked he no longer saw the man, and listening he no longer heard those footsteps, but only the sound of the wind as it whistled in the chimney and Soetkin crying under the bedclothes.

Then once again he heard those footsteps, and just behind him, near his head, a soft sigh.

"Who is it?" he said.

No one answered, but quite distinctly came the sound of three taps on the table. Ulenspiegel was afraid, and began to tremble. "Who is it?" he said again. No one answered, but once more there came the three taps upon the table, and after that he felt two arms hugging him round, and over him there leant a man's body with skin all wrinkled and a great hole in its breast that gave forth a smell of burning.

"Father," said Ulenspiegel, "is it you, and is this your poor body that weighs thus upon me?"

He received no answer to his question, and although the shadow seemed still quite close, it was from outside the cottage that he heard a voice crying out to him by name, "Tyl! Tyl!"

Suddenly Soetkin got out of bed and came over to where Ulenspiegel was lying.

"Do you hear something?" she said.

"Yes," he answered, "it is father calling to me."

"I too," said Soetkin, "I have felt a cold body beside me in my bed, and the mattress has moved, and the curtains. And I heard a voice that spoke my name: 'Soetkin!' it said, a voice soft as a whisper. And I heard a step near by, light as the sound of a gnat's wings." Then she addressed herself to the spirit of Claes: "If there is aught that you desire in that heaven where God guards you in his glory, you must tell me, my man, that we may know what you would have us do."

All of a sudden a mighty gust of wind came blowing upon the door, and it burst wide open and straightway the room was filled with dust; and from afar, Soetkin and Ulenspiegel could hear the sound of the cawing of many ravens.

They went out of the cottage, and came together to the place of torture....

It was a black night, save where the clouds--coursing in the sky like stags before the keen north wind--were parted here and there so as to disclose the glittering face of some star.

By the remnants of the pile strode a sergeant of the commune, up and down, keeping guard. Soetkin and Ulenspiegel heard his steps as they resounded on the hardened ground, and together with that sound there came the cry of a raven, calling his fellows, doubtless; for from far away there came the sound of other caws in answer.

As Soetkin and Ulenspiegel approached the pile the raven swooped down upon the shoulder of Claes, and they could hear its beak pecking upon the body. And soon the other ravens followed. Ulenspiegel would have thrown himself upon the pile and beaten them off had not the sergeant come up and prevented him.

"Are you a sorcerer," cried the man, "that comes hither for the hands of the dead as a talisman, and yet do you not know that the hands of a man that has been burnt to death possess no power of invisibility, but only hands of one who has been hanged--such as you yourself will be one of these days?"

"Sir," Ulenspiegel replied, "I am no sorcerer, but the orphaned son of the man tied to this stake here. And this woman is the dead man's widow. We only wish to kiss him once again, and to take away a few of his ashes in his memory. Give us leave, sir, pray, for you are certainly no foreign soldier, but a son of this land."

"Very well," said the sergeant.

So the orphan and the widow made their way over the charred wood and approached the body. Weeping, they both kissed the face of Claes.

Then Ulenspiegel found the place where the heart had been, a great hole hollowed out by the flames, and therefrom he took a few ashes. Then Soetkin and he knelt down and said a prayer, and when the sky began to turn pale in the dawn they were still kneeling there together. But the sergeant drove them off, for he was afraid that he would be punished for his kindness.

When they were home again Soetkin took a piece of red silk, and a piece of black silk, and she made a little bag to contain the ashes. And on the little bag she sewed two ribbons so that Ulenspiegel could always carry it suspended round his neck. And she gave it to him with these words:

"These ashes are the heart of my husband. This red ribbon is his blood. This black one is our sorrow. Always upon your breast let them lie, and call down thereby the fire of vengeance upon his torturers."

"Amen," said Ulenspiegel.

And the widow embraced her orphan, and the sun rose.

XLIV

In that year, being the fifty-eighth year of the century, Katheline came into Soetkin's house and spake as follows:

"Last night, being anointed with balm, I was transported to the tower of Notre Dame, and I beheld the elemental spirits that carry the prayers of men to the angels, and they in their turn, flying up towards the highest heaven, bring them to the Throne of God. And everywhere the sky was strewn with glittering stars. Suddenly I saw the figure of a man that seemed all blackened and charred, rising from a funeral pile. Mounting up towards me, this figure took its place beside me on the tower. I saw that it was Claes, just as he was in life, dressed in his charcoal-burner's clothes. He asked me what I was doing there on the tower of Notre Dame. 'And you,' I asked in my turn, 'whither are you off to, flying in the air like a bird?' 'I am going,' he answered, 'to judgment. Hear you not the angel's trump that summons me?' I was quite close to him, and could feel the very substance of his spiritual body--not hard and resisting to the touch like the bodies of those that are alive, but so rarefied that to come up against it was like advancing into a kind of warm mist. And at my feet stretched out on every side the land of Flanders, with a few lights shining here and there, and I said to myself: 'They that rise early and work late, surely they are the blessed of God!' And all the time I could hear the angel's trumpet calling through the night. And presently I saw another shade mounting up towards me from the land of Spain. This was an old man and decrepit, with a protruding chin, and quince jam all oozing from the corners of his lips.

"On its back it wore a cloak of crimson velvet lined with ermine, and on its head an imperial crown, and it kept nibbling a piece of anchovy which it carried in one hand, while in the other hand it clutched a tankard of beer. I could see that this spirit was tired out and had come to the tower of Notre Dame to rest itself. Kneeling down, I addressed it in these words: 'Most Imperial Majesty, of a truth I revere you, yet I know not who you are. Whence come you? And what was your position in the world?' 'I come,' answered the shade, 'from Saint Juste in the country of Estramadoure. I was the Emperor Charles the Fifth.' 'But,' said I, 'whither, pray, are you going on such a cold night as this, and over these clouds that are all heavy and charged with hail?' 'I go,' answered the shade, 'to judgment.'

"Just as the Emperor was about to finish his anchovy and drink up his tankard of beer, the angel's trumpet sounded, and straightway he had to betake himself to the air again, grumbling at this sudden interruption of his repast. High aloft he mounted through space, I following close behind; and as he went he hiccuped with fatigue, and coughed asthmatically, even vomited now and again; for death had come upon him at a time when he was suffering from a fit of indigestion. Thus ceaselessly we soared aloft like arrows shot from a bow of cornel-wood. The stars glimmered all around us, and time and again we saw them detach themselves and fall headlong, tracing long strokes of fire upon the sky. Once more the angel's trump resounded, very shrill and powerful. Each fanfare seemed to cleave for itself a pathway through the cloudy air, scattering the mists asunder like a hurricane that has begun to blow from near at hand. And by this means our track was marked out clearly for us, till at length, when we had been carried up and up a thousand leagues and more, we beheld Christ Himself in His glory, seated upon a throne of stars. And at His right hand was the angel who records the deeds of men upon a register of brass, and at His left hand stood Mary His Mother, she that for ever implores mercy for poor sinners.

"Claes and the Emperor knelt down together before the throne. And the angel took off the crown from the head of the Emperor, and cast it away.

"'There is only one Emperor here,' he said. It is 'Christ!'

"His Sacred Majesty could not conceal his annoyance; yet managed to assume a humble tone of voice as he begged to be allowed to keep his anchovy and his tankard of beer, for that he had come a long way and was very hungry.

"'Hungry you have been all your life,' said the angel, 'nevertheless, you may go on with your eating and drinking if you want to.'

"The Emperor emptied the tankard of beer and took a nibble at the anchovy. Then Christ addressed him with these words:

"'Do you present yourself to judgment with a clean soul?'

"'I trust so, dear Lord,' answered Charles the Emperor, 'for I have confessed my sins and am well shriven.'

"'And you, Claes? You do not seem to be trembling like the Emperor.'

"'My Lord Jesus,' answered Claes, 'there is no soul that is clean, and how should I be afraid of you, you that are sovereign good and sovereign justice. Nevertheless, I am afraid of my sins, for they are many.'

"'Speak, carrion!' said the angel, addressing himself to the Emperor.

"'I, Lord,' said Charles, in an embarrassed tone of voice, 'I am he that was anointed with oil by your priests, and crowned King of Castile, Emperor of Germany, and King of the Romans. It has ever been my first care to maintain that power which was given me by you, and to that end I have done my best by hanging and by sword, by burning and by burying alive, by pit and by fire to keep down all Reformers and Protestants.'

"But the angel said:

"'O you false and dyspeptic man, you are trying to deceive us. In Germany, forsooth, you were tolerant enough of the Protestants, seeing that there you had good cause to be afraid of them. But in the Netherlands you beheaded, burned, hanged, and buried them alive, for there your only fear was lest you might fail to inherit sufficient of their property--so rich and plenteous, like the honey made by busy bees. And there perished at your hands one hundred thousand souls, not at all because you loved the Lord Christ, but because you were a despot, a tyrant, a waster of your country, and one that loved himself first of all, and after that, nothing but meat, fish, wine, and beer, for you were always as greedy as a dog and as thirsty as a sponge.'

"When the angel had made an end, Christ commanded that Claes should speak, but now the angel rose from his place, saying: 'This man has nothing to answer. He was a good, hard-working man, as are all the poor people of Flanders, willing either for work or play; one that kept faith with his masters and trusted his masters to keep faith with him. But he possessed a certain amount of money, and it was for this reason that an accusation was brought against him, and inasmuch as he had harboured in his house a heretic, he was condemned to be burnt alive.'

"'Alas!' cried Mary, 'the poor martyr! But here in heaven there are springs of fresh water, fountains of milk, and exquisite wine which will refresh you, and I myself will lead you there, good charcoal-burner!'

"And now the angel's trumpet sounded yet again, and I saw a man, naked and very beautiful, rising from the abyss. On his head was an iron crown, and on the rim of the crown these words inscribed: 'Sorrowful till the day of judgment.'

"He approached the throne and said to Christ:

"'Thy slave I am until that day when I shall be Thy master!'

"'O Satan,' said Mary, 'the day will come when there shall be neither slave nor master any more, and when Christ who is Love, and Satan who is Pride, shall stand forth together as the One Lord both of Power and of Knowledge.'

"'Woman,' said Satan, 'thou art all goodness and all beauty.'

"Then addressing himself to Christ, and pointing at the same time towards the Emperor, Satan demanded what was to be done with him. Christ answered:

"'Take this crowned wormling and put him in a room wherein you have collected together all instruments of torture which were in use under his rule. And each time that some innocent wretch is made to suffer the torture of water, whereby the bodies of men swell up like bladders; or the torture of the candles, whereby the soles of their feet or their armpits are burned and scorched; or the torture of the strappado, whereby their limbs are broken; or the torture of the four wagons that drags them asunder--and every time that a free soul breathes out its last upon the funeral pile let this man also endure in his turn these same deaths and tortures, to the end that he may learn in his own person what evil may be wrought in the world by an unjust man who has power over his fellows. Let him languish in prison, let him meet death upon the scaffold, let him mourn in exile, far from his native land, let him be scorned, abused, and flogged with many whips. Let him know what it is to be rich and see all his property eaten up by the tax-gatherer, let him be accused by informers and ruined by confiscations. Turn him into an ass that he may know what it is to be gentle by nature and at the same time ill-treated and badly fed; let him be a poor man that asks for alms and is answered only with abuse; let him be a workman that labours too long and eats too little; and then, when he has thus well suffered both in his body and his soul, turn him into a dog that he may be beaten, an Indian slave that he may be sold to the highest bidder, a soldier that he may fight for another and be killed without knowing why. And then, at the end of three hundred years, when he has exhausted all sufferings and all miseries, make a free man of him, and if in that state of life he is good like Claes here, you may lay at last his body to rest in some quiet corner of earth that is shady in the noonday heat and open to the morning sun, and there beneath a beautiful tree and covered with fresh sward, he shall find eternal repose. And his friends shall come to his grave to moisten it with their tears, and to sow violets there, which are called the flowers of remembrance.'

"But Mary said: 'Have mercy upon him, O my Son; he knew not what he did, and we know how power hardens the heart.'

"'There is no mercy for him,' said Christ.

"'Alas!' cried His Sacred Majesty, 'woe is me! Would that I had but a single glass of Andalusian wine!'

"'Come,' said Satan, 'it is past the time for wine or meat or poultry!'

"And away he carried off the soul of the poor Emperor, down to the nethermost hell, still nibbling as he went his piece of anchovy. For this Satan suffered him to do out of pity.

"Thereafter I saw that Our Lady conducted Claes away and up into the highest heaven, where is nothing but stars hanging from the roof like clusters of grapes. And there the angels washed him clean, and he became all beautiful and young, and they gave him rystpap to drink in silver ladles. And then the heavens closed."

"Claes is in glory," said the widow.

"His ashes beat against my heart," said Ulenspiegel.

XLV

During all the three and twenty days that followed, Katheline grew paler and paler, and thin and all dried up as though devoured not only by the madness that consumed her but by some interior fire that was even deadlier still. No more did she cry out as of old: "Fire! Fire! Dig a hole! My soul wants to get out!" But she was continually transported into a kind of ecstasy, in which she spake to Nele many strange words.

"A wife I am," she said, "and a wife you also ought to be. My husband is a handsome man. A hairy man is he, hot with love. But his knees and his arms, they are cold!" And Soetkin looked at her sadly, wondering what new kind of madness this might be. But Katheline continued:

"Three times three are nine, the sacred number. He whose eyes glitter in the night like the eyes of a cat--he only it is that sees the mystery."

One evening when Katheline was talking in this way, Soetkin made a gesture of misgiving. But Katheline said:

"Under Saturn, four and three mean misfortune. But under Venus, it is the marriage number. Cold arms! Cold knees! Heart of fire!"

Soetkin answered:

"It is wrong to talk in this way of these wicked pagan idols."

But Katheline only crossed herself and said:

"Blessed be the grey horseman. Nele must have a husband--a handsome husband that carries a sword, a dusky husband with a shining face!"

"Yes," cried Ulenspiegel, "a very fricassee of a husband, for whom I will make a sauce with my knife!"

Nele looked at her lover with eyes that were moist with pleasure to see him so jealous.

"None of your husbands for me!" she said.

But Katheline made answer:

"When cometh he? He that is clad in grey, and booted and spurred?"

Soetkin bade them say a prayer to God for the poor afflicted one, whereupon Katheline in her madness ordered Ulenspiegel go and fetch four quarts of dobbel kuyt what time she made ready some heete-koeken, as pancakes are called in Flanders.

Soetkin asked her why she wished to make festival on a Saturday like the Jews.

"Because the butter is ready," said Katheline.

So Ulenspiegel stood up and took in his hand the big pot of English pewter that held just four quarts.

"Mother," he asked, "what shall I do?"

"Go," said Katheline.

Soetkin did not like to say anything more, for she was not mistress of the house. So she told her son to go and do as Katheline had bidden him. Ulenspiegel ran to the tavern and brought back with him the four quarts of dobbel kuyt. And soon the kitchen reeked with the good smell of pancakes, and every one felt hungry, even the poor afflicted Katheline.

Ulenspiegel ate heartily, and drank heartily also, for Katheline had given him a full tankard, saying, with a malicious look, that it behoved him to drink more than the others seeing that he was the only male and the head of the house. Afterwards she asked him to give them a song.

But Ulenspiegel did not sing, and Nele was all tearful, seeing Soetkin so pale, and as it were all sunken into herself. Katheline alone of them all appeared to be happy.

When the meal was over Soetkin and Ulenspiegel went up into the loft to bed. Katheline and Nele stayed behind, for they slept together in the kitchen.

All was quiet until the second hour after midnight. Ulenspiegel had already been asleep for a long time because of all the beer he had been drinking. But Soetkin, as her custom was, lay on with eyes wide open, praying Our Lady to send her sleep, but with no avail.

All of a sudden she heard the cry of a sea-eagle, and from the kitchen came a like cry, in answer. Then, from far off in the country somewhere, other cries resounded, always as it seemed in answer to that cry in the kitchen just below.

Soetkin tried to think it was only the night-birds calling to one another, and endeavoured to distract her attention from those sounds. But presently she heard a neighing of horses and a noise as of iron sabots beating along the high road. Then it was that she opened the window of the loft and saw that in very fact there were a couple of horses saddled just outside the cottage, pawing the ground and nibbling the grass that grew by the side of the road. Thereafter she heard the voice of a woman crying out in fear, and a man's voice threatening, followed by the sound of blows, more cries, a door shutting with a bang, and then steps running up the ladder in mortal fear:

All this time Ulenspiegel was snoring away in his bed, hearing nothing, till the door of the loft opened and Nele came in, out of breath, sobbing, and with scarcely anything on. As hastily as she could the girl dragged against the door a table, some chairs, an old heating stove, any bit of furniture that was to hand. With these she made a rough-and-ready barricade. Meanwhile, outside, the last stars were paling in the heavens and the cocks beginning to crow.

Ulenspiegel had turned over in his bed at the noise Nele was making, but now he had gone to sleep again. Nele, meanwhile, had thrown herself on to Soetkin's neck.

"Soetkin," she said, "I am afraid. Light the candle, do!"

Soetkin did so, and all the time Nele never left off moaning. By the light of the candle Soetkin looked the girl up and down. Her shift was torn at the shoulder and in front, and there were traces of blood upon her neck and cheek, such as might be left by the scratch of a finger-nail.

"Whence have you come? And what are these wounds?" Soetkin asked her.

Trembling and groaning all the time, the girl made answer:

"For mercy's sake, Soetkin, do not bring us to the stake!"

Ulenspiegel meanwhile had awakened from his sleep, and was blinking his eyes in the sudden light of the candle. Soetkin said:

"Who is it down there?"

"Not so loud!" Nele whispered. "It is the husband Katheline desired for me."

All at once Soetkin and Nele heard Katheline cry out in a loud voice, and their legs gave way beneath them in their terror.

"He is beating her," said Nele, "he is beating her because of me!"

"Who is it in the house?" cried Ulenspiegel, jumping out of bed. And then, rubbing his eyes, he went stalking up and down the room till at last he found a heavy poker that stood in the corner. He took hold of it, but Nele tried to dissuade him, telling him that there was no one there. But he paid no attention, running to the door and throwing to one side the chairs and tables and the stove that Nele had piled up in front of it. All this time Katheline was crying out from the kitchen, and Nele and Soetkin held Ulenspiegel--the one by the waist, the other by the legs--and tried to prevent him from descending the stairs. "Don't go down," they told him. "Don't go down, Ulenspiegel. There are devils down there."

"Forsooth," says he, "Nele's devil-husband! Him verily will I join in marriage to this long poker of mine! A marriage of iron and flesh! Let me go!"

But they did not loose their hold, hanging on as they were to the landing rail.

And all the time Ulenspiegel was trying to drag them down the staircase, and they the more frightened as they came nearer to the devils below. And they could avail naught against him, so that at last, descending now by leaps and bounds like a snowball that falls from the top of a mountain, he came into the kitchen. And there was Katheline, all exhausted and pale in the light of dawn.