Part 14

Now in those days, day in, day out, King Philip of Spain was used to spend his time fingering old papers and scribbling and writing on leaves of parchment. To these alone did he confide the secrets of his cruel heart, for he loved no man living, and knew that none loved him. For he desired to direct his great empire by himself alone, and like a weary Atlas he was bowed under that weight. Melancholy and phlegmatic by nature, this excess of work was consuming a body that was already none too strong. Hating as he did every happy face, he had begun to hate our land of Flanders, for its gaiety if for nothing else. And he hated our merchants just because they were wealthy and luxurious, and he hated our nobility just because they were free in speech and frank in manner, and because of the high ardour of their bravery and their jovial bearing. Neither had he forgotten the tale that was told how, as early as the year 1380, the Cardinal de Cousa had pointed out the abuses of the Church, and had preached the need of reformation, since which time the revolt against the Pope and the power of Rome had begun to be manifest in our land, and was now, under different forms and sects, rife in every head like water boiling in a kettle with the lid on.

And although, under the Emperor Charles, the Papal Inquisition had already been the death, by burning, burying alive, or hanging, of so many as a hundred thousand Christians, and although the property of these unfortunates had gone into the coffers of the Emperor and the King like rain falling into a sink, Philip decided that this was not enough, and now imposed on the country a new College of Bishops, and aspired to introduce into Flanders all the horrors of the Spanish Inquisition.

And the Town Heralds sounded their trumpets and their timbrels, and declaimed a proclamation to the effect that all heretics, whether men, women, or girls, should be done to death. Those who would recant their heresies were to be hanged, but those who were obstinate were to be burnt at the stake. The women and girls were to be buried alive, and the executioner was to dance upon their dead bodies.

And the flame of resistance began to burn and run through all the country.

VII

It was the fifth of April, just before Easter, and the Counts Louis of Nassau, de Culembourg, and de Brederode (he that was surnamed Hercule the Toper) were entering the courtyard of the palace of Brussels, together with three hundred gentlemen. They were come to seek an audience of the Governess of the Netherlands, Madame the Duchess of Parma, and were mounting the great stairway of the palace four by four.

Coming at length into the hall where my Lady was seated they presented their petition, which entreated her to use her influence with King Philip for the abolition of all those decrees which concerned religion and the introduction into Flanders of the Spanish Inquisition. This petition, which afterwards became known as "The Compromise," also declared that in our already disaffected country such a policy as the introduction of the Inquisition could only result in troubles of all kinds, ruin to the country, and universal misery.

Berlaymont, who later on was to prove so treacherous and baneful to the land of his birth, stood close by Her Highness, and mocked at the poverty of certain of the confederate nobles who had come to visit her.

"Have no fear, my Lady," he told her, "they are nothing but beggars!"

And by these words he implied either that the said nobles had been ruined in the service of the King, or else that they were eager to emulate the luxury of the great Lords of Spain. And thus it was that later on these same nobles endeavoured to bring ridicule upon the words of Berlaymont by saying that "they held it indeed an honour to be esteemed and spoken of as beggars--beggars for the good service of the King and the advantage of these lands." And from that time they began to wear round their necks a golden medal carved with an effigy of the King. And on the obverse side of the medal were two hands clasped upon a beggar's wallet, with these words writ thereunder: "To the King, faithful even unto beggary." On their hats and bonnets they carried also little golden ornaments made in the form of beggars' hats and platters.

And all this time Lamme went carrying his portly form about the town, seeking the wife that he never found.

VIII

One morning Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:

"Come with me. Let us go and present our compliments to a certain high noble I wot of, a most renowned and powerful personage!"

"Will he tell us where my wife is?" asked Lamme.

"Certainly," answered Ulenspiegel, "if he knows."

And away they went to Brederode, surnamed Hercule the Toper. And they found him in the courtyard of his house.

"What do you want with me?" he demanded of Ulenspiegel.

"To speak with you, my Lord."

"Speak then," said Brederode.

"You are a handsome, brave, and powerful nobleman," said Ulenspiegel. "Time was when you were able to flatten out a Frenchman in full armour as though he were no better than a mussel in its shell. But if you are brave and powerful you are also well-informed. Can you tell us, therefore, why you wear this medal inscribed with these words: 'To the King, faithful even unto beggary'?"

"Yes," Lamme put in, "pray tell us why, my Lord!"

But Brederode made no answer, and only looked very hard at Ulenspiegel, who thereupon continued his discourse in this wise.

"And why, pray, do you, you other noble Lords, seek to be faithful to the King even unto beggary? Is it for the great good that he wishes you? Or for the fair friendship that he bears you? How is it that instead of being faithful to the King even unto beggary you do not so act rather that the brute himself may be despoiled of his country, and thus be made faithful for ever to beggary himself?"

And Lamme nodded his head to show his agreement with what his friend had said:

Brederode looked at Ulenspiegel with his keen glance, and smiled with pleasure at his handsome appearance.

"Either you are a spy of King Philip," he said, "or else a good man of Flanders; and for whichever you are I will pay you your due."

So saying he led Ulenspiegel to his pantry, and Lamme followed close behind. When they were come there, Brederode pulled Ulenspiegel's ear till the blood flowed.

"This for the spy," he said.

But Ulenspiegel remained quite quiet and said nothing.

Then Brederode, pointing to a pipkin of cinnamon wine, bade his butler bring it to him.

"Drink," said Brederode, "this for the good Fleming."

Ah!" cried Ulenspiegel, "good Fleming means sweet tongue for cinnamon! Verily the saints themselves do not know the likes of it!"

When he had drunk half the tankard he passed the remainder to Lamme.

"And who," said Brederode, "who is this papzak, this belly-carrier that needs must be recompensed for having done nothing?"

"This," said Ulenspiegel, "is my friend Lamme Goedzak, and whenever he drinks mulled wine he thinks that he is going to find the wife he has lost."

"That's so," said Lamme, sucking up the wine from the goblet most devotedly.

"And where may you be going to now?" asked Brederode.

"In quest of the Seven," said Ulenspiegel, "the Seven that shall save the land of Flanders."

"And who may they be?" asked Brederode.

"When I have found them," said Ulenspiegel, "then I will tell you."

But Lamme, who was grown sprightly with what he had been drinking, suggested to Ulenspiegel that they should go there and then to the moon, to see if his wife perchance was there.

"All right," said Ulenspiegel, "if you'll provide a ladder!"

And it was May, the green month of May, and Ulenspiegel said to Lamme:

"O Lamme, behold the lovely month of May! Ah, the bright blue of the sky! The joy of the swallows! And behold, the branches of the trees, how they are all red with sap, and the very earth is in love! Verily this is now the time both to hang and to burn for the Faith. For they are ready, the good little Inquisitors. Ah, what noble faces they have! And theirs is the power to correct us and to punish us and to degrade, and hand us over to the secular judges, or to imprison us--O the fine month of May!--and to take us captive, and to proceed to trial against us without serving any writ, and to burn, hang, behead us, and to dig the grave of premature death for our women and our girls. In the trees the chaffinch is singing! But upon him that is rich and wealthy the good Inquisitors have cast a favourable eye! And it is the King himself that shall enter into their inheritance. Then go, my girls, dance in the meadows to the sound of bagpipes and shawms. O the fine month of May!"

And the ashes of Claes beat upon the breast of Ulenspiegel.

"On, on!" said he to Lamme. "Happy are they that shall keep heart high and sword drawn in the dark days that are coming!"

IX

Lamme and Ulenspiegel, each mounted upon a donkey given him by Simon Simonsen, one of the followers of the Prince of Orange, went riding far and wide, warning the people concerning the bloodthirsty designs of King Philip, and always on the look-out for any news from Spain. They frequented all the markets and fairs of the countryside, selling vegetables and habited like peasants.

One day as they were returning from the market at Brussels, they passed a stone house on the Quai aux Briques, and there, in a room on the ground floor, they beheld a beautiful dame dressed all in satin. She had a high complexion, a lively look in her eyes, and her neck was most fair to behold. By her side was a young, fresh-looking cook, to whom she was addressing words like these:

"Clean me this saucepan, will you! No rusty sauce for me!"

"As for me," cried Ulenspiegel, poking in his nose at the window, "any kind of soup is good enough! For a hungry man cannot afford to be particular."

The lady turned towards him:

"And who," she said, "who is this little man, I wonder, that must needs concern himself with my soup?"

"Alas, my lovely lady," said Ulenspiegel, "if only you will consent to make soup in my company, I will teach you how to prepare a traveller's relish of a sort that is quite unknown to lovely ladies who stay at home."

And then, smacking his lips:

"I am hungry," he said.

"Hungry for what?" she asked him.

"For you."

"Sure, he's a nice enough looking fellow," said the cook to her mistress. "Let him come in a while and tell us his adventures."

"But there are two of them!" said the lady.

"I'll look after the other," said the cook.

"Madame," said Ulenspiegel, "it is true that there are two of us, I and my poor friend Lamme here, whose back cannot support so much as the weight of a hundred pounds, yet who carries in his stomach five hundred pounds at the least of food and drink, and that right willingly!"

"My son," Lamme said, "do not make mock of me, unfortunate that I am, for my belly costs a deal to fill."

"To-day, at any rate, it shall not cost you so much as a liard," said the lady. "Come in, both of you."

"But what about these donkeys of ours?" said Lamme.

"There is no lack of fodder," answered the lady, "in the stable of Monsieur le Comte de Meghen!"

Thereupon the cook left her saucepan, and led Lamme and Ulenspiegel into the stable yard, they still riding on their donkeys, who now began to bray inordinately.

"Hark," cried Ulenspiegel, "hearken to the fanfare with which they greet their coming nourishment. They are blowing their trumpets for joy, the poor beasts!"

But when they were dismounted, Ulenspiegel said to the cook:

"Come now, my dear, tell me, if you were a she-ass would you choose for your mate a donkey like me?"

"If I were a woman," the cook replied, "I would desire a fellow that had a merry countenance."

"What are you then," asked Lamme, "being neither woman nor she-ass?"

"I am a maid," quoth she, "and that is neither woman nor she-ass into the bargain. Now do you understand, fat-belly?"

Meantime the lady was inviting Ulenspiegel to drink a pint of bruinbier and to partake of some ham, a gigot, a pâté, and some salad. Ulenspiegel clapped his hands.

"Ham!" he cried, "that's good to eat; and bruinbier is a drink divine. Gigot is food fit for the Gods! And the thought of a pâté is enough to send one's tongue a-tremble in one's mouth for joy! A rich salad is worthy victual for a king, forsooth. But blessed above all men shall that man be to whom it is given to dine off thy loveliness, O lady mine!"

"How the fellow does run on!" she exclaimed. And then: "Eat first, you rogue."

"Shall we not say grace ere we consume all these dainties?" said Ulenspiegel.

"Nay," answered the lady.

But Lamme began to make moan, complaining that he was hungry.

"Eat, then, your fill," said the beautiful dame, "for well I see that you have no other thoughts but of meats well cooked."

"And fresh withal," Lamme added, "even as was my wife."

At this the cook grew moody; nevertheless they ate and drank their fill, and that night also did the beautiful dame give his supper to Ulenspiegel, and so the next day, and the days that followed.

As for the donkeys, they were given double feeds, and for Lamme there was always a double ration. And throughout a whole week he never once went outside the kitchen, playing the wanton with many a dish of food, but never with the cook, for he was thinking of his wife all the time.

This annoyed the girl, and she went so far as to say that it was not worth while to cumber the earth if one thought of nothing but one's belly.

But all this time Ulenspiegel and the beautiful dame were passing the time together in right friendly wise, till one day she said to him:

"Tyl, I think you have no principles at all. Who are you?"

"I am," said he, "a son that Chance begat one day on High Adventure."

"You are not afraid to speak well of yourself," she told him.

"That's for fear that others will praise me."

"Would you go so far as to help such of your brethren who have suffered for the Faith?"

"The ashes of Claes beat upon my breast."

"There is something splendid about you, Tyl, when you say that," she told him, "but who is this Claes?"

"He was my father," answered Ulenspiegel, "that was burnt alive for the Faith."

"Verily you are not at all like my husband, the Count de Meghen," she said, "for he, if he could, would bleed to death the country that I love. For you must know that I was born in the glorious city of Antwerp. And now I will make known to you that the Count has entered into an agreement with the Councillor of Brabant to bring into that very city of Antwerp a regiment of infantry."

"I must inform the citizens of this," said Ulenspiegel. "Behold, I will go there immediately, swift as a ghost."

He departed there and then; and by the following morning the citizens of Antwerp were in arms. But Ulenspiegel and Lamme, having sent their donkeys to a farmer that was a friend of Simon Simonsen, were themselves obliged to go into hiding for fear of the Count de Meghen, who was seeking for them everywhere to have them hanged; for it had been reported to him that there were two heretics that had drunk of his wine and eaten of his meat. And he was jealous and spoke concerning this matter to his lovely dame, who ground her teeth in anger, and wept and swooned seventeen times. The cook behaved in a similar fashion, but swooned not so often, and swore by her hope of Paradise and by the eternal salvation of her soul, that neither she nor her mistress had done anything wrong unless it had been to give what was left of their dinner to a couple of poor pilgrims who, mounted on two wretched donkeys, had stopped for a moment at the kitchen window.

All that day there was a great shedding of tears, so that the floors of the house became quite damp with them. And when he saw this, Monsieur de Meghen felt reassured that he was being told the truth and nothing but the truth.

Lamme did not dare to show himself again there, for the cook always jeered at him, calling after him, "My wife!" And for this cause he was very sorry for himself, thinking of all the good food that he was missing. But Ulenspiegel continued his visits to the beautiful dame, entering the house by the rue Sainte-Catherine, and hiding himself in the storeroom. And he always took care to bring back to Lamme some dainty morsel.

Now one evening the Count de Meghen informed his lady that before morning dawned he was resolved to lead his men-at-arms into the city of Bois-le-Duc. When he had told her this he went to sleep. But the beautiful dame went straightway to the storeroom, and apprised Ulenspiegel of what had happened.

X

Ulenspiegel, in the garb of a pilgrim, and with no provision of food or money, departed incontinently for Bois-le-Duc, with the intention of warning the citizens. He reckoned to find a horse at the house of Jeroen Praet, the brother of Simon Simonsen, for whom he carried letters from the Prince. From thence he would go by side roads to Bois-le-Duc as fast as his horse would carry him.

As he was crossing the road he spied a company of soldiers coming towards him. This gave him a great fright because of the letters which he carried; but being resolved to put the best face on the misadventure, he awaited the arrival of the soldiers with all the courage at his command, standing still by the roadside telling his beads. When the soldiers came up with him he joined them, and soon discovered that they also were going to Bois-le-Duc.

At the head of the troop marched a company of Walloons led by a captain, Lamotte by name, with his bodyguard of six halberdiers. Then followed the other officers each according to rank, and with a smaller bodyguard: the provost with his halberdiers and two bailiffs, the chief watchman with the baggage-carriers, the executioner with his assistants, and a band of drums and fifes making a great row. Thereafter came a company of Flemish soldiers, two hundred strong, with their captain and his ensign-bearers. They were divided into two divisions, each of one hundred men, under the command of two sergeants, and in squads of ten under the command of corporals. The provost and his lieutenants were likewise preceded by a band of drums and fifes, beating and screaming.

Behind these, again, came two open wagons wherein rode the loving companions of the soldiers, pealing with laughter, twittering like birds, singing like nightingales, eating, drinking, dancing, standing, lying down, or sitting astride--all gay and pretty girls.

Many of them were dressed like foot-soldiers, but in fine white cloth which was cut away at the arms and legs and at the neck so as to show their sweet white flesh. And on their heads they wore bonnets of fine linen trimmed with gold and surmounted with magnificent ostrich plumes that fluttered in the wind. Their belts were of cloth of gold crimped with red satin, from which hung the scabbards of their daggers, made of cloth of gold. And their shoes, their stockings, their hose, their doublets, shoulder-knots and fitments were all of gold and white silk. Others there were, dressed also in the uniform of infantrymen but with uniforms of divers colours, blue, green, scarlet, sky-blue, and crimson, cut away and embroidered or emblazoned according to their fancy. But on the arm of each and all was to be seen the coloured band that indicated her calling.

The girls were in charge of a sergeant who did his best to keep them in order, but they made no pretence of obeying him, but bombarded him with japes and sweet grimaces so that he found it hard to keep his countenance.

Ulenspiegel meanwhile, in his dress of a pilgrim and telling his beads, went marching along by the side of the two ensign-bearers and their guard, for all the world like a little boat by the side of a big ship. Suddenly Lamotte inquired of him whither he was going.

"Sir Captain," answered Ulenspiegel, who was growing hungry, "you must know that I am one that has committed a grievous sin, for which I have been condemned by the Chapter of Notre Dame to journey to Rome on foot and to ask pardon there from the Holy Father. This he has granted, and now I am shriven and suffered to return to my own country on the one condition that I am to preach the Holy Mysteries to whatsoever soldiers I may encounter on the way; and they for their part are enjoined to give me bread and wine in return for my preaching. And thus by my sermons do I sustain my wretched life. Would you now give me permission to fulfil my vow at the next halt?"

"I will," said Monsieur de Lamotte.

After this, Ulenspiegel began to mingle with the Walloons and Flemings in right brotherly fashion, but all the time he kept fingering those letters which he kept concealed under his doublet. And the girls began to cry out to him:

"Come hither, handsome pilgrim, come hither and show us the strength of your pilgrim's oyster-shells!"

And Ulenspiegel drew nigh to them with modest mien, and said:

"O my sisters in God, pray you do not make mock of the poor pilgrim that wendeth up hill and down dale preaching ever the Holy Faith to the soldiers."

But with his eyes he feasted himself upon the sight of their sweet charms. And the wanton girls, thrusting their lively faces betwixt the canvas curtains of the wagons, cried out to him yet the more:

"Surely you are too young a man to go preaching to soldiers? Climb up into our wagon and we will teach thee more gentle subjects of conversation!"

And right willingly would Ulenspiegel have done as they bade him, but he dared not, by reason of the letters which he carried. And already two of the girls were leaning out of the wagon trying to hoist him up with their white, round arms. But the sergeant was jealous.

"Be off with you, or else I'll off with your head!" he threatened.

So Ulenspiegel removed himself away, but not without a sly look behind him at the fresh young beauty of those joysome girls, all golden in the sun which now shone brightly.

They came at last to Berchem, where Philip de Lannoy, Lord of Beauvoir, ordered a halt. For he it was that was in command of the Flemings.

Now in that place was an oak-tree, of medium height, but despoiled of all its branches save one only, a big branch that was broken off short in the middle; for only a month before an Anabaptist had been hanged there by the neck.

Here then the soldiers came to a halt, and the keepers of the canteen came up and began to sell to them bread, wine, beer, with meats of every kind. And to the gay girls they sold all manner of sugared sweets, and castrelins, and almonds, and tartlets, the which when Ulenspiegel saw, he felt hungrier than ever.

All at once Ulenspiegel climbed up like a monkey into the tree, and seated himself astride on the big branch, seven feet above the ground at the least. And then, when he had given himself a few strokes from his pilgrim's scourge, he began his sermon, while the soldiers and their gay girls sat round him in a circle.

"It is written," he began, "that whosoever giveth to the poor, the same lendeth to God. Very well then, O soldiers present here to-day, and you, fair ladies, sweet comrades in love of all these valiant warriors, do you lend now to God. That is to say, give me, I beg you, some of your bread, meat, wine, beer, if you please, and eke your tartlets, and I promise you that God, who is very rich, shall give you back in exchange many pieces of ortolan, rivers of malmsey wine, mountains of sugar-candy, and great pieces of that lovely rystpap which they eat in Paradise from silver spoons."

Then, changing to a more sorrowful tone, he continued:

"Behold now, with what cruel tortures do I strive to merit pardon for my sins! Will you do nothing to assuage the smarting pain of this scourge by which my back is lacerated till the blood flows?"

"Who is this madman?" cried the soldiers.