Part 11

"Hanske," she was saying, "O Hanske, why must you leave me? Is it my fault if Nele is naughty?"

Ulenspiegel did not take any notice of her, but straightway opened the door of the shed, and finding no one there, rushed out into the yard, and thence into the high road. Far away he descried two horses galloping off and disappearing in the mist. He ran after them hoping to overtake them, but he could not, for they went like a south wind that scours the dry autumn leaves.

Ulenspiegel was angry with disappointment, and he came back into the cottage grieving sore in his heart and muttering between his teeth:

"They have done their worst on her! They have done their worst!..."

And he looked on Nele with eyes that burned with an evil flame. But Nele, all trembling, stood up before Katheline and the widow.

"No!" she cried. "No, Tyl, my lover! No!"

And as she spoke she looked him straight in the face, so sadly and so frankly that Ulenspiegel saw clearly that what she said was true. Then he spake again, and questioned her:

"But whence came those cries, and whither went those men? Why is your shift all torn on the shoulder and the back? And why do you bear on forehead and cheek these marks of a man's nails?"

"I will tell you," she said, "but be careful that you do not have us burned at the stake for what I shall tell you. You must know that Katheline--whom God save from Hell--hath had these three-and-twenty days a devil for her lover. He is dressed all in black, he is booted and spurred. His face gleams with a flame of fire like what one sees in summer-time when it is hot, on the waves of the sea."

And Katheline whimpered: "Why, oh why, have you left me, Hanske, my pet? Nele is naughty!"

But Nele went on with her story:

"The devil announces his approach in a voice that is like the crying of a sea-eagle. Every Saturday my mother receives him in the kitchen. And she says that his kisses are cold and that his body is like snow. One time he brought her some florins, but he took from her all the other money that she had."

All this time Soetkin kept on praying for Katheline, with clasped hands. But Katheline spake joyfully:

"My body is mine no more. My mind is mine no more. O Hanske, my pet, take me with you yet once again, I beg you, to the Witches' Sabbath. Only Nele will never come. Nele is naughty, I tell you."

But Nele went on with her story:

"At dawn," she said, "the devil would go away, and the next day my mother would relate to me a hundred strange things. But, Tyl dear, you must not look at me with those cruel eyes.... Yesterday, for instance, she told me that a splendid prince, clad in grey, Hilbert by name, was anxious to take me in marriage, and that he was coming here himself that I might see him. I told her that I wanted no husband, handsome or plain. Nevertheless, by weight of her maternal authority she persuaded me to stay up for him, for she certainly keeps all her wits about her in whatever pertains to her amours. Well, we were half undressed, ready to go to bed; and I had gone off to sleep sitting on that chair. It seems that I did not wake up when they came in, and the first thing I knew was that some one was embracing me and kissing me on the neck. And then, by the bright light of the moon, I beheld a face that shone like the crests of the waves of a July sea when there is thunder in the air, and I heard a low voice speaking to me and saying: 'I am your husband, Hilbert. Be mine! I will make thee rich.' And from the face of him that spake these words there came an odour like the odour of fish. Quickly I pushed that face away from me, but the man tried to take me by force, and although I had the strength of ten against him, he managed to tear my shift and scratch my face, crying out the while that if only I would give myself to him he would make me rich. 'Yes,' I answered, 'as rich as my mother, whom you have deprived of her last liard!' At that he redoubled his violence, but he could not do anything against me. And at last, since he was more disgusting than a corpse, I scratched him in the eye with my nails so sharply that he cried out with pain, and I was able to make my escape and run up here to Soetkin."

And all this while Katheline kept on with her "Nele is naughty. And why did you go away so soon, O Hanske, my pet?"

But Soetkin asked her where she had been while wicked men were attempting the honour of her child.

"It is Nele that is naughty," Katheline replied. "As for me, I was in company of my black master, when the devil in grey comes to us, with his face all bloody. 'Come away,' he cries, 'come away, my boy, this is an evil house; for the men, it seems, are of a mind to fight with one to the death, and the women carry knives at the tips of their fingers.' And there and then they ran off to their horses, and disappeared in the mist. Ah, Nele, Nele! She is a naughty lass, I tell you!"

XLVI

On the following day, while they were making a meal of hot milk, Soetkin said to Katheline:

"You see how misfortune is already driving me from this world; and yet you, it seems, would like to drive me away all the faster by your accursed sorceries!"

But Katheline only went on repeating:

"Nele is naughty. Come back, Hanske, my pet!"

It was the following Wednesday when the two devils came again. Ever since the preceding Saturday Nele had slept out at the house of a widow woman named Van den Houte, saying, by way of excusing herself, that she could not stay with Katheline because of that young rogue Ulenspiegel.

Now Katheline welcomed her black master and her master's friend out in the keet, which is to say the laundry or bakehouse adjoining the cottage. And there did they feast and regale themselves with old wine and with smoked ox tongue, which viands were always prepared and ready in that place for them. And the black devil said to Katheline:

"You must know, Katheline, that we are engaged in a mighty work, and to accomplish it we have need of a large sum of money. Give us, I pray you, what you can."

When she only offered them a florin they threatened to kill her. But when she had raised the amount to a couple of golden caroluses and seven deniers they let her off.

"Come not again on Saturdays," she told them, "for Ulenspiegel has discovered that your custom it is to come on that day, and he will certainly be waiting for you and will beat you to death, and that would be the death of me as well."

"We will come next Tuesday," they told her.

Now on that day Nele and Ulenspiegel went to sleep without any anxiety, thinking that the devils only came to the cottage on Saturdays. But Katheline got out of bed secretly and went into the yard to see if her friends had arrived. She was very impatient, for since seeing Hanske again her madness had abated, for hers was a lover's madness, as they say.

But to-night she could nowhere see her friends, and she was greatly distressed, so that when, presently, she heard the cry of the sea-eagle coming as it seemed from the open country in the direction of Sluys, she went out towards that cry, making her way across the field by the side of a tall dike that was constructed of sticks and grass. She had not gone far when she heard the two devils conversing together at the other side of the dike. And one of them said:

"Half shall be mine."

And the other answered:

"No. Nothing of the kind. What is Katheline's belongs to me. All of it."

Then they blasphemed together most terribly, disputing as to which of the two should be possessed of the property and the love of Katheline and of Nele into the bargain. Paralysed with fear, daring neither to speak nor to move, Katheline presently heard them fall to fighting with one another. And then one of the devils cried aloud:

"Ah! The cold steel!"

And after that there came the sound of a death-rattle, and of a body falling heavily.

Terrified as she was, Katheline returned to the cottage.

At two of the morning she heard once more the cry of the sea-eagle, but this time close at hand in the yard. She went to the door and opened it, and saw her devil lover standing there all alone.

She asked him what he had done with his friend.

"He will not come again," he told her.

Then he kissed her and caressed her, and his kisses seemed colder than ever before. When the time came for him to depart, he asked her to give him twenty florins. This was all that she had, but she gave him seventeen.

The next day she could not control her curiosity, and walked out along by the dike. But she found nothing, except at one place a mark on the grass about the size of a man's coffin; and the grass was wet underfoot and red with blood. But that evening rain fell, washing the blood away.

On the following Wednesday Katheline heard yet again the cry of the sea-eagle in the yard.

XLVII

Now whenever any money was needed to pay for the expenses of Katheline's household, Ulenspiegel was accustomed to go by night to the hole by the well wherein had been hidden the money left by Claes. He would lift up the stone that covered the top of the well and would take out a carolus.

One evening the two women were busy with their spinning, while Ulenspiegel sat carving a chest which had been commissioned from him by the town bailiff. And upon the side of the chest he was carving a hunting scene. Very beautiful it was and cleverly carved, with a pack of hounds running in pairs closely following one another, chasing their quarry.

Katheline was there, and Nele asked Soetkin absent-mindedly if she had found a safe hiding-place for her treasure. Thinking no harm, the widow answered that it would be hard to find a safer place than the side of the well wall.

Near midnight of the following Thursday Soetkin was awakened by Bibulus Schnouffius, who was barking fiercely. But soon he was quiet again, and Soetkin, thinking that it was a false alarm, turned over and went to sleep.

The next day when Nele and Ulenspiegel rose at dawn they were surprised to find no Katheline in the kitchen, neither was the fire lit, nor was there any milk boiling on the fire as usual. They were surprised at this and went out to see if perchance she was in the yard. And there they found her, all dishevelled in her linen shift, notwithstanding that it was drizzling with rain, and she was all damp and shivering, and stood there, not daring to come in.

Ulenspiegel went up to her and asked her what she was doing half naked there in the rain?

"Ah!" she said. "Yes, yes. Strange things have happened! Strange, wonderful things!"

And as she spoke she pointed to the ground, and they saw the dog lying there with its throat cut, all dead and stiff.

Ulenspiegel's thoughts ran at once to the treasure. He hastened to the hole by the well, and found as he had feared that it was empty, and all around the earth scattered about far and wide.

He ran back to Katheline and struck her with his hand.

"Where are the caroluses?" he cried.

"Yes! Yes! Strange things have been happening!" she answered.

At this Nele tried to protect her mother from the wrath of Ulenspiegel.

"Have mercy, have pity," she cried. "O Ulenspiegel!"

Then he stopped beating the wretched woman, and at the same moment Soetkin appeared on the scene and wanted to know what was the matter.

Ulenspiegel showed her the dog with its throat cut and the empty hole. Soetkin turned pale, and cried out most sorrowfully:

"O God, thou hast brought me low indeed!"

And Nele, seeing how gentle Soetkin was, wept also and was very sorrowful. But Katheline, flourishing a piece of parchment that she held in her hand, began to speak in this wise:

"Yes, yes. Strange things and wonderful have come to pass this night! For he came to me, my good one, my beautiful. And no longer did his face display that ghastly glitter which makes me so afraid. And it was with a great tenderness in his voice that he addressed me. Yes, I was overcome with love for him, and my heart was melted within me. 'I am a rich man.' he told me, 'and soon I will bring thee a thousand florins in gold.' 'So be it,' I answered him. 'I rejoice for your sake rather than for mine, Hanske, my pet.' 'But is there no one else in your cottage,' he asked, 'that you love, perhaps, and would rejoice to see enriched by me also?' 'No,' I replied. 'They that live here have no need of any help of thine.' 'You are proud, it seems,' he answered. 'Soetkin and Ulenspiegel, are they then so rich as to need nothing?' 'They live without the help of any,' I told him. 'In spite of the confiscations?' he asked. But then I laughed aloud, and said that he knew that they would not be such simpletons as to hide their treasure in the house where it could be easily found. 'Nor yet in the cellar?' he persisted. 'Of course not,' I told him. 'Nor yet in the yard?' To that I answered not a word. 'Ah,' he said, 'that would indeed be a piece of imprudence.' 'Not so imprudent as all that,' I answered, 'for neither walls nor water have tongues.' And at that he began laughing to himself. Presently he went away, earlier it was than usual. But first he gave me a powder, telling me that if I took it I should be spirited away to the finest of all the Sabbaths. I accompanied him a little way just as I was, as far as the door of the yard, and I seemed half asleep, and soon I found myself, even as he had told me, at the Witches' Sabbath, and I did not return from thence until the morning. Then it was that I found myself here as you see me, and discovered the dog with his throat cut, and the empty hole. And this is a heavy blow to me, to me that loved him so tenderly, and had given to him my very soul. But whatsoever I have shall be yours, and I will labour with my hands and my feet to keep you alive, never fear."

But Soetkin said:

"I am become even as the corn beneath the grindstone. God and this devil robber are heavy upon me both at once."

"Robber do you call him?" cried Katheline. "Speak not so. He is a devil, a devil I say! And for proof I will show to you this parchment which he left behind him in the yard, and on it is written, 'Forget not to serve me, and behold, in three times two weeks and five days I will render thee back again twice as much again as the treasure I have now taken from thee. Doubt not, or else thou wilt surely die.' And oh," cried Katheline, "of a surety he will keep his word!"

"Poor mad thing," said Soetkin.

And this was the only word of reproach that she uttered.

XLVIII

Six months passed, and the devil lover came no more. Nevertheless Katheline did not live without hope of seeing her Hanske again.

Soetkin meanwhile had given up her work altogether, and was always to be found sitting huddled up in front of the fire; and her cough never left her. Nele provided the choicest and most sweetly smelling herbs, but no remedy had any power over her. As for Ulenspiegel, he never left the cottage for fear that his mother might die while he was out.

At last there came a time when the widow could neither eat nor drink without being sick. The surgeon (who also carried on the trade of a barber) came to bleed her, and when the blood had been taken away she was so enfeebled that she could not leave her chair. And at last the evening came when she cried out, all wasted with pain:

"Claes! Husband! And Tyl, my son! Thanks be to God for He taketh me!"

And with a sigh she died.

Katheline did not dare to watch by that bed of death, so Nele and Ulenspiegel kept watch together, and all night long they prayed for her that was gone.

As the dawn broke a swallow came flying in by the open window.

Nele said: "The bird of souls! It is a good omen. Soetkin is in heaven!"

The swallow flew three times round the room, and departed with a cry. Then there came a second swallow, larger it was and darker than the first. It fluttered around Ulenspiegel, and he said:

"Father and mother, the ashes beat upon my breast. Whatsoever you command me, that will I do."

And the second swallow went off with a cry, just as the first had done. And Ulenspiegel saw thousands of swallows skimming over the fields. And the sun rose.

And Soetkin was buried in the cemetery of the poor.

XLIX

After the death of Soetkin Ulenspiegel grew dreamy, sorrowful, and angry, and he would wander about the fields, hearing nothing, taking what food or drink was put before him, and never choosing for himself. And oftentimes he rose from his bed in the middle of the night and went out into the country alone.

In vain did the gentle voice of Nele urge him not to despair, in vain did Katheline assure him that Soetkin was now in Paradise with Claes. To both alike Tyl answered:

"The ashes beat upon my breast."

And he was as one mad, and Nele was sorrowful because of him.

Meanwhile, Grypstuiver the fishmonger dwelt alone in his house, like a parricide, daring only to come out in the evening. For if any man or woman passed him on the road they would shout after him and call him "murderer." And the little children ran away when they saw him, for they had been told that he was a hangman. So he wandered about by himself, not venturing to enter any of the taverns that are in Damme, for the finger of scorn was pointed at him, and if ever he stood in the bar for a minute, they that were drinking there left the tavern.

The result was that no innkeeper desired him as a customer any more, and whenever he presented himself at their houses they would shut the door on him. The fishmonger would make a humble remonstrance, but they answered that they had a licence to sell wine certainly, but that they were not obliged to sell it against their will.

The fishmonger grew impatient at this, and in future when he wanted a drink he would go to the In 't Roode Valck--at the sign of the Red Falcon--a little cabaret outside the town on the banks of the Sluys canal. There they served him, for they were hard up at that inn, and glad to get anything from any one. But even so, the innkeeper never entered into conversation with him, nor did his wife either. Now in that house there were also two children and a dog; but when the fishmonger made as though he would kiss the children they ran away, and the dog, when he called him, tried to bite him.

One evening Ulenspiegel was standing on his doorstep in a dream, and Mathyssen, the cooper, happening to pass by, saw him standing there, and said to him:

"If you worked with your hands belike you would forget this grievous blow."

But Ulenspiegel answered: "The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast."

"Ah!" said Mathyssen, "there lives a man who is sadder even than you are--Grypstuiver the fishmonger. None speaks to him, and all avoid him, so much so that when he wants his pint of bruinbier he is forced to go out all alone to the poor folk of the Roode Valck. Verily he is well punished."

"The ashes beat...." Ulenspiegel answered him again.

And the same evening, when the bells of Notre Dame were sounding the ninth hour, Ulenspiegel sallied forth towards the Roode Valck, but failing to find the fishmonger there as he had expected, he went wandering along under the trees that grow by the canal-side. It was a bright moonlight night.

Presently he saw the figure of the murderer coming towards him. He passed close in front of Ulenspiegel, who could hear what he was saying, for the fishmonger was talking to himself, as is the custom of they who live much alone.

"Where have they hidden it?" he muttered. "Where have they hidden the money?" But Ulenspiegel answered the question for him by giving him a great blow in the face.

"Alas!" cried the fishmonger as he felt the hand of Ulenspiegel upon him. "Alas, I know you! You are his son! But have pity on me. Have pity! For I am weak and aged, and what I did to your father was not done out of malice, but in the service of His Majesty. Only deign to forgive me, and I will give you back again all the goods that I have bought, and you shall not pay me a penny. You shall have everything, and half a florin over and above, for I am not a rich man. No, you must not think that I am rich!"

And he was about to kneel down in front of Ulenspiegel. But seeing him so ugly, so craven, and so base, Ulenspiegel took hold of him and threw him into the canal.

And he went away.

L

And from many a funeral pyre there ascended to heaven the smoke from the flesh of the victims, and Ulenspiegel, thinking ever upon Claes and Soetkin, wept in his loneliness.

At last, one evening, he went to find Katheline, thinking to inquire of her some way of remedy or revenge.

She was alone with Nele, sewing by the light of the lamp. At the sound which Ulenspiegel made as he came in, Katheline raised her head slowly like one that is awakened from a heavy sleep.

He said: "The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast, and I am fain to do somewhat to save this land of Flanders. But what can I do? I have entreated the great God of earth and heaven, but he has answered me nothing."

Katheline said: "The great God cannot hear you. First of all you should have recourse to the spirits of the elemental world, for they, uniting in themselves two natures, both celestial and terrestrial, are enabled to receive the plaints of men and hand them on unto the angels, who themselves in their turn carry them up thereafter to the Throne."

"Help me," he said, "only help me now, and I will repay you with my blood if need be."

"I can help you," said Katheline, "on one condition only: that a girl who loves you is willing to take you with her to the Sabbath of the Spirits of Spring, which is the Easter of Fruitfulness."

"I will take him," said Nele.

Whereupon Katheline took a crystal goblet and poured into it a certain mixture of a greyish colour, and she gave it to them both to drink, and rubbed their temples with this mixture, and their nostrils likewise, and the palms of their hands, and their wrists, and she also caused them to eat a pinch of white powder, and then she told them to gaze the one at the other in such manner that their two souls might become one.

Ulenspiegel looked at Nele, and straightway the sweet eyes of the girl illumined in him a mighty flame, and because of the mixture he had taken he felt as it were a thousand crabs nipping his skin all over him.

After that Nele and Ulenspiegel undressed, and very beautiful they looked in the lamplight, he in the pride of his manly strength, and she in all her youthful grace and sweetness. But they were not able to see one another, for already it was as though they were asleep. Then Katheline rested the neck of Nele upon the arm of Ulenspiegel, and taking his hand she placed it upon the young girl's heart. And there they stayed, all naked, lying side by side. And to both of them it seemed that their bodies, where they touched, were made of tender fire, like the sun itself in the month of roses.

Then, as they afterwards related, they climbed together on to the window-sill, whence they threw themselves out into space, and felt the air all round them, buoying them up as the waters buoy up the ships at sea.

Thereafter they lost all consciousness, seeing naught of earth where slept poor mortals, nor yet of heaven whose clouds were rolling now beneath their feet; for now they had set their feet upon Sirius, the frozen star, and from thence again they were flung upon the Pole.

There it was that a fearful sight awaited them, a giant all naked, the Giant Winter. His hair was wild and tawny, and he was seated on an ice-floe, with his back resting against a wall of ice. Near by in the pools of water there disported a host of bears and seals, bellowing all round him. In a hoarse voice the giant summoned to his presence the hail-storms and the snow-storms and the icy showers; also there came at his behest the grey clouds and brown odorous mists, and the winds among whom is the sharp north wind, he that blows the strongest of all. Such were the terrors that raged together in that place of bane.